


The Canticle of Trials

by Cowoline, EmberLeo



Series: The Emberquizzy Chronicles [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Addiction, Canon Text, F/M, Initiatory Experiences, Modern Girl in Thedas, Ordeal Work, The Chant of Light, Trauma, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowoline/pseuds/Cowoline, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberLeo/pseuds/EmberLeo
Summary: Commander Cullen Rutherford is infatuated with the lovely Inquisitor Ember. Her past is strange and mysterious, but her personality is optimistic and engaging, though he's seen no signs she returns his feelings. She's an open book he doesn't know how to read.That's probably for the best, because he doesn't have time for relationships between running the Inquisition's armies, resisting the pull of lyrium addiction, navigating residual conflicts between mages and Templars, and trying to get a good night's sleep.A wise man delegates. Cullen doesn't know what he would do without his captains and lieutenants.That's the problem.-----------------A Cullen PoV episode from the Canticle of DreamsNOTE: This story is separate only for Point Of View shift. It is NOT meant to stand alone. Though I'm told it works pretty well as a stand alone, actually, so if you'd rather start here and backtrack, well, who am I to stop you? ;]You probably want to read through The Canticle of Dreams Ch 34 first, though, to get the full context.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age)
Series: The Emberquizzy Chronicles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1241567
Comments: 42
Kudos: 74





	1. Scars Beyond Counting

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read through The Canticle of Dreams - Chapter 34 "Red Queen" yet, you probably don't want to read this! -E-

Commander Cullen looked over his notes and then at his officers settled on the pews. The chapel was the only room in Skyhold that had sufficient seating for an administrative meeting of any scale when they arrived. It was unorthodox, to be sure, but most of the officers were Templars, and they’d all spent their share of time facing an altar of Andraste over the years.

Cullen nodded to his second, Knight-Captain Rylen, who announced, “The shorter tower has been selected for mage quarters. Senior Templars will be housed on the bottom floor to mitigate magical risks. Per the Inquisitor’s orders, you are not to interfere with the mages unless it is explicitly an emergency, or they request assistance. All others will be housed in the barracks according to rank. Any questions?”

No one raised a hand, so Cullen barked, “Dismissed!”

“Templars stay for the lyrium ceremony!” Knight-Captain Barris called above the chatter. Cullen nodded absently, collecting his notes, and headed for the door.

“Not joining us to- _knight,_ Commander?” Knight-Lieutenant Jared called out to him, emphasizing the pun on his former title. He clenched his jaw, not acknowledging the taunt, however good-natured it was intended. He kept walking purposefully away as Rylen’s voice resonated down the hallway.

“Leave off, Jared. The Commander has good reason for leaving the Order behind.”

=====

Construction was coming along nicely, but Cullen was already starting to regret choosing the office intersecting the upper crossroads between the ramparts and the bridge to the rotunda. It had taken a week to discipline everyone out of using his office as a shortcut, with the reasonable exception of the patrols treating the pass-through as a check-in, and the Inquisitor, who seemed to enjoy the excuse to check on him personally.

Not that he minded. He smiled, thinking about her insistence the previous evening on bringing him a loaf of bread and a bowl of soup.

“You’re supposed to be a role model for the soldiers, right? That includes modeling proper self-care,” she'd asserted with a stubborn grin.

“Are you mothering me, Inquisitor?” He'd laughed.

“If I have to! And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Ember?” She'd shaken her head, a curl of copper hair threatening to escape her customary bun.

The soup had tasted all the better for having been delivered by her hand.

She had a point, he supposed. He’d skipped lunch today again, and regretted it immediately when Lieutenant Primmer came trundling into his office to announce, grimly, “You’ll want to have a look in the courtyard, Commander. They’re at it again, and this time they’re on about herself directly.”

Cullen’s eyes widened slightly, and then narrowed as he lifted himself from his chair. He grabbed his sword, threading it into its scabbard as he walked briskly out to the ramparts to evaluate the situation.

Two groups of Templars had squared off in the lower courtyard, pointing at each other accusingly as the veterans tried to keep them reigned in with little success.

“How far have we fallen that we now wait on the mages’ bidding?” young Mattrin demanded.

Lysette closed the distance to growl in his face, “The Lord Seeker turns out to be a demon, the Knight Divine has been tainted with red lyrium, and you think the farthest the order has fallen is in finally listening to our mages?”

“She’s not even properly trained! She’s never passed a Harrowing!” Falana objected, though with more concern than heat.

Cullen frowned, and called down from the ramparts in a booming, authoritative voice, “Harrowing? You want _harrowing?_ The Inquisitor has walked bodily in the fade. She has personally faced down an ancient darkspawn magister, and quite possibly an archdemon, to save us from certain doom. She waded through an avalanche and a blizzard to find us when even we did not know for certain where we were. I can not think of a person who has passed through more harrowing experiences than our Herald of Andraste. _Can you?_ ”

He stood with his hands on the hilt of his sword, staring down the knights below him. “All Templars to the tower landing in fifteen minutes!” he ordered, and stalked back to his office.

Maker’s breath, this was completely unacceptable! They would get the lecture of their lives. The next Templar to start a public argument, or make any public statement against the Inquisitor, would be assigned to latrine duty for a month! He was tempted to order lashings, but their soft-hearted leader had forbidden corporal punishments, preferring lectures and onerous duties for non-violent offenses, and jailing for anything severe. He shook his head, growling under his breath. Her reasoning was sound. The Inquisition didn’t need anyone who was so unruly that they needed harsher discipline than that. They needed cool heads on sound bodies, not rebellious children looking for excuses to act out.

Cullen sighed and set his desk to rights before putting on the rest of his customary armor and heading to the imposed meeting.

=====

Cullen leaned back in his office chair, sighing. It had already been a very long day after an exhausting night of nightmares he could feel, but barely remember. The Inquisitor had come storming into his office a few hours ago to harangue him about the well-established standing order to pull possibly-possessed mages for examination. Her tirade had triggered flashbacks to Uldred’s uprising in Kinloch, leaving him drained, with a throbbing headache that he couldn’t shake. The potions the healers provided barely took the edge off, but he had far too much to do, so he gritted his teeth and returned to work.

The maleficar examination process involved the careful induction of pain - nothing that couldn’t be easily healed by an apprentice, of course - to provoke the alleged demon into revealing and defending itself. He wasn’t fond of it, by any stretch, but it was the only remotely reliable method they had for establishing the presence of a demon. Cullen remembered all too well exactly how dangerous covert demon possession among the ranks of mages could be. If he had any chance to prevent something like that from occurring on his watch, he was going to take it.

He refused to take on Meredith’s paranoia, however. Only those mages who had actively demonstrated erratic behavior sufficient to draw suspicion from other mages were to be examined. It was no longer up to Templars alone who was and was not worthy of suspicion - that led to abuses of power, and Cullen would have no part of it.

Still, the Inquisitor had brought up a troubling point. Pain induction could, in theory, provoke a mage to reach for a demon they had not previously entreated. It was considered unlikely - a mage that was not already a maleficar shouldn’t have a demon handy to entreat. He didn’t entirely understand her explanation, but he was willing to hear her out.

But first, he needed to know what had actually happened. He sent for the three Templars who had overseen the alleged maleficar’s examination. They filed into his office, a mixture of contrite, bewildered, and irate. He stood up to greet them, standing taller than any of them from behind his desk.

“Lieutenant Jared, you’re the ranking Templar here. Report.”

“Ser, we were examining the mage, Davin, for evidence of demon possession in the prescribed manner. Light cuts and bruises. No broken bones, no puncture wounds, plenty of opportunity for blood magic. Davin offered no resistance or defense, and no demon manifested. We would have ruled him exonerated if he had withstood the treatment for much longer, but the Inquisitor barged in without warning, and made us stop. She healed his wounds, and ordered that he be returned to confinement with magic suppression cuffs, and otherwise made comfortable. We explained your standing orders, and she indicated that she would take the matter up with you.”

“Which she did,” Cullen nodded, his expression grim.

“She doesn’t know what she’s doing, Ser. She said we were expected to reject unethical orders, and that if we had taken initiative to examine him ourselves without your standing order, we would be imprisoned ourselves now. She’s mad!” Knight-Templar Mattrin objected. “We’ve already been restricted from performing our duties as Templars without the mages having to ask us first. As if mages can be trusted to know when we are needed! If mages could be trusted, Templars would not be needed in the first place!”

Cullen frowned, giving the young man a quelling look. Mattrin quieted, looking at the floor. Cullen directed his attention to the young elven woman, Falana. He wondered, for a moment, how an elf gained sponsorship into the Templars in the first place. It was not entirely unheard of, but it was extremely rare. It concerned him that she was more likely to be a fanatic, but thus far she had seemed reasonable, and even kind to the mages.

He nodded to her, prompting her to report. “Ser, I don’t believe the Inquisitor understands what we were doing. She was not trained in the Circle. She doesn’t know our methods. I understand that what we have to do looks dangerous, and maybe even cruel. She needs to understand that the consequences are worse. With all due respect, I request that she be provided with appropriate training in Circle methods for controlling magic. Maybe if she understands us better, she will make better decisions.”

His lips twitched. That was a diplomatic answer from a woman who had, but weeks ago, questioned the Inquisitor’s qualifications as a mage who had not been put through the Rite of Harrowing.

“Understood.” He nodded to the three. “You did as you were ordered. For now, the standing order is suspended. Confine, suppress, and report any suspected malifecars, but do not perform the examination. I will be discussing the matter with the Inquisitor and the Seeker tonight over dinner. I will let you and the others know what, if any, changes result from that discussion. Dismissed.”

Mattrin and Falana filed out of his office, but Knight-Lieutenant Jared lingered. Cullen looked up at him, expectantly. After the doors were closed, the younger man sighed.

“She’s not qualified, Commander. I know she means well - we all do - and she endears the faithful, the mages, and the nobility, which is valuable, I’m sure. But she could have done that as she was, just the Herald of Andraste. Making an untrained apostate the Inquisitor was a mistake.”

“Your opinion has been duly noted, Knight-Lieutenant,” Cullen replied dryly. “The Inquisition is not Kirkwall. You knew things would be different here when you joined us.”

Jared gave him a frustrated look. “I’m not saying Meredith wasn’t crazy, but at least she didn’t let the mages run amok.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow at that. “ _Really_. Because what I remember is an epidemic of maleficarum revolting against her insanity, and an abomination blowing up the Chantry.”

Jared’s eyebrows furrowed, and then he huffed. “That’s one way of looking at it, Ser.”

Cullen crossed his arms and stared at Jared, pointedly. Jared nodded sharply before departing out the side door towards the tavern.

Cullen sighed, sitting back down at his desk, putting his head in his hands. The headache was back with a vengeance. He couldn’t think like this. He shook his head, regretting it immediately as a wave of nausea followed the resulting throb of pain. He stood back up to head for the Great Hall. He needed a break.

=====

"Seventeen! Ha!" The Inquisitor came striding into his office with a smirk on her face and a stack of letters in her hand. As she approached, the cloying scent of too many different perfumes reached his nose.

He chuckled, putting down his pen. "Last count, you had twenty-two proposals from Orlais alone. Seventeen is hardly competition."

"Oh, come on, Cullen, nobody is else is even close! Leliana is a known Chantry sister, Josie is betrothed, and only three people have been brave enough to offer for Cass after watching her scowl all night at the Winter Palace. Admit it, the Most Eligible Bachelor in Skyhold award goes to one Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford." Her grin was contagious.

He leaned back in his chair, unable to contain his smile. "I suppose, if you insist."

She dropped the parcel of letters on his desk, and leaned against the ledge with one hip. "So, have you had lunch yet or what, mister?"

"It's almost teatime!"

"Exactly. So if you haven't had lunch yet, you're ridiculous."

"And what about you, Your Grace? How was your lunch?" He retorted, raising an eyebrow.

She tilted her nose up, putting the fingertips of one hand to her chest. "I have never claimed to not be ridiculous." She announced with mock pride.

"Alright," he chuckled, holding up his hands and laughing. "I suppose I have time for lunch… and chess."

She groaned. "Give up, Cullen! I will never be any good at chess."

"Humor me." He laughed. "An adviser can dream."

"Oh, all riiight." She rolled her eyes, grinning.

\-----

He gazed at her while she studied the chessboard, nibbling on her lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The mid-afternoon sun shining through her hair made it look like a red-gold halo. It suited her, Cullen thought, otherworldy, heaven-sent. He huffed quietly to himself. Such overblown, romanticized whims did not suit a grown man. Still, he found he couldn't help staring.

"Check! Mate? Checkmate, I think?" Ember declared with hesitant triumph.

Cullen blinked, looking down at the board. She'd finally managed to beat him! "Checkmate," he agreed, "Well done, Inquis- uh, Ember." He corrected, seeing her irate expression.

"You let me win." She accused, her tone flat with disappointment.

He shook his head, "I was distracted."

"By what?" she demanded with narrowed eyes. "The sun in your eyes?"

"Something like that," he murmured.

=====

Cullen lay in his bed, shaking and sweating, his back rigid. It felt like his whole body was clenched into cramping, and he panted with the exertion. The pain came in waves as muscles vied for control, passing the spasm from each to the next down his back and along his limbs.

The nausea was the worst. He was used to the fatigue, and the pain he would endure. The weakness in his limbs was frightening and shaming, but there was nothing he could do to resist or overcome the vomiting. It was blessedly rare, but this was a rare night. His withdrawal hadn’t been this intense since his first few weeks after leaving Kirkwall. He wasn’t sure what had brought it on. Perhaps the reports of what, exactly, was waiting for them in Adamant Fortress had unearthed something, somehow.

They’d been fighting demons out of the rifts for months, of course, and Venatori blood mages sometimes summoned minor demons as well. But combining both those factors with the unique abilities of Grey Warden mages, multiplied by an army? Cullen shuddered with fear and worry.

He was supposed to send the Inquisitor into that mess? The Iron Bull reported that she was becoming increasingly competent with not only healing and defensive magic, but offensive magic as well, especially against demons, but it wasn’t enough to reassure Cullen that Adamant wouldn’t be her doom.

He gritted his teeth as another wave of spasms overtook his body. The clenching of his jaw triggered a sharp pain in his temple, making him whimper quietly. As another wave of pain and fatigue overtook him, he could resist no longer.

He passed out.

\-----

Kinloch hold was overrun with demons dripping ichor and blood on the walls and floor. Meredith was running through the halls screaming her defiance, and swinging her red lyrium sword at friend and foe alike.

He was trapped.

Again.

Solona Amell stood before him, her eyes wide with fear. A terror demon’s claws wrapped around her wrist and neck. A long, forked tongue swept from the distended, open jaw to lick a streak of glistening ichor across her shoulder, and she shuddered with horror and disgust.

Cullen banged his fists on the barrier, shouting soundlessly into the rushing void filling his ears. Somehow, the demon's growls, and the beautiful young mage’s whimpers cut through the noise, but his own voice was lost. Additional long claws descended her body, wrapping around curving hips and narrow waist, tangling in rich red hair. Slowly, excruciatingly, they began to pull on her.

Suddenly, a light descended. “Take your ugliness from this place and do not return,” a sonorous voice ordered from somewhere above him.

The demon growled at the glowing figure slowly floating down from the ceiling, but another figure appeared beyond the demon, growling in return. A winged grey wolf. Both figures seemed familiar, but Cullen couldn’t imagine where he’d seen them before. Benevolent spirits weren’t common in Kinloch.

Solona disappeared, along with the barrier, and the dripping stone walls, as the wolf and the light being ripped the lesser terror demon limb from limb sending dark wisps scattering away into the fade. Cullen shook his head, suddenly lucid, looking around.

“I apologize, Commander,” the light being sang, “Yours was not the only dream attacked tonight, and we have been very busy. We believed you would survive the longest, and so protected the children and mages first.”

He now remembered this spirit was Beauty, a desire demon from earlier nightmares, redeemed by the Inquisitor’s reckless efforts. He frowned, remembering the rest of that dream, and recognised the young wolf as hers as well. He hadn’t remembered the dream very well when he awoke before. Would he remember it this time?

“You should yet dream,” the spirit continued. “Rest in beauty, Commander.”

\-----

Ember’s hands were soft. Softer than he would expect from a woman who spent weeks at a time in the field, spinning a staff.

Her voice was low, enticing. “You are always so tense, my Commander. You need to relax more.”

His eyes were closed, as he stretched out with a sensual smile as her soft hands worked against the stiff muscles of his back. “Mmm, yes, right there. Thank you, Ember, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I _want_ to,” she replied, laughter in her voice prompting his relaxed smile to widen. “Who would pass up the opportunity to get their hands on the bare skin of Skyhold’s Most Eligible Bachelor, after all? I know Dorian will be drooling with envy.”

He chuckled. “It’s not Dorian I’m thinking about right now.”

Her breath was hot against his ear as she leaned against him, pressing her breasts into his back. “I should hope not, my Commander," she purred.

He growled, turning over to grab her by the shoulders and pull her down into a devouring kiss.

“ _Commander_!”

Cullen awoke suddenly, staring at the morning sky through the hole in his roof, unsure what had pulled him out of the embarrassingly pleasant dream he’d just been having.

“Report!” he called out.

“You are late for the morning meeting,” Cassandra’s voice called back from below in his office.

He groaned. “My apologies. I will be ready shortly.” He climbed out of bed and began pulling on his trousers, wincing at the pressure against his arousal.

“Bad night?” he heard from the base of the ladder.

“Very,” he sighed. “But I will survive.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Cassandra offered.

“I doubt it, but thank you,” he replied, resigned. "I'll be down in a moment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to get all 6 chapters out by the end of the year. Wish me luck! <3


	2. Hunger for the Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before and after Adamant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little late. This fic has proven to be much harder to write than the main fic.
> 
> \----- indicates a scene change/ small time jump  
> ===== indicates a more significant time jump
> 
> -E-

Cullen gazed with reverence at Leliana’s shrine as the spymistress moved quietly down the stairs to seek the ambassador before their war council meeting. He had always admired the lay sister’s devotion, knowing she had been through as much as he had, in her own way. It was her passion, as much as Cassandra’s, that had launched the Inquisition into the force it was today.

He bowed his head, mouthing a silent prayer, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders. It had been some time since he had found comfort in regular services, but some verses of the chant still brought him a moment of peace.

“Solas, I was hoping you could help me.” Cullen startled as the Inquisitor’s voice reached him from the ground floor. Without thinking, Cullen moved to look over the handrail. The ensuing conversation was hushed, but he could catch tones of voice, and, of course, body language.

Ember leaned in towards Solas, smiling with delight to see him. Cullen frowned to himself, and sighed quietly. She was friendly with most she met, especially her inner circle of trusted friends, but he could see this was more. What drew her to the elven apostate, he wondered, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. Certainly Solas’ expertise had been of tremendous value when she first arrived, but Ember had long since mastered the use of the anchor for controlling rifts, and there were other fade experts among the mages, none of whom drew her attention the way he did.

The elf rose from his seat, returning her smile, and leaned in briefly, only to school his features and lean back again clasping his hands behind his back, looking up and around at the floors above. Cullen backed up a step, warily, looking at the report in his hand until he saw Solas turn his head again, and he cautiously returned to observing, his heart pounding in his ears like war drums.

Ember’s shoulders settled slightly, and her smile faltered, only to return when Solas looked down again. But where her first smile held delight, this smile was wry, perhaps even self-mocking. She said something in a sardonic tone, and the elf laughed, leaning in towards her again and murmuring something that made her laugh in return.

Then Solas cleared his throat, and she muttered something, turning away, and they abruptly parted ways. Ember rushed from the room towards the Great Hall as Solas sat back down at his desk, shaking his head.

Cullen frowned. Was the elf toying with the Inquisitor? Solas’ shoulders were tense. He huffed in frustration. Cullen pressed his lips flat in grim satisfaction, the war drums quieting to a steady heartbeat once more. Whatever he wanted from Ember, it seemed he was not getting it.

Cullen worried at his lip again, the metallic taste against his tongue drawing his thoughts inward. That apostate had far too much influence on the young Herald. She was, to be sure, an intelligent woman, but she was far too trusting, especially regarding other mages.

He was still slightly annoyed that he hadn’t been able to convince her to focus on intervening with the Templars, but he had known it was unlikely that a mage wouldn’t seek out other mages. Still, she was unlike any mage he had ever known. Even the apostates he had known carried themselves with a certain fear, or else defiant pride. The Herald moved through the world as though her first concern was neither safety, nor power, but curiosity. Everything she saw was a source of wonder, a puzzle to solve, a problem to examine. She did not hesitate to tackle even the most intractable problems, sometimes with exasperating determination. She seemed to have no sense of what was and was not reasonably possible.

He huffed, and began making his way back around to the stairs and down through the library as he ruminated. Was her homeland so removed from Andrastian Thedas that she could not see the most essential limitations around her? Spirits and magic could not be trusted, politics were fraught with malice and illusion, the Maker was, at best, a distant, disapproving parent, and mortal men were weak and fallible, yet she came running through the halls with excitement over the discovery of a common flower breaking through the thawing soil in the gardens?

He smiled to himself as he passed the empty alcove where she often sat laughing with Dorian. He admired her optimism, honestly. She brought light into the room. With her guiding the Inquisition, he could honestly believe hope was within their grasp.

He glanced over the library railing one last time to check on Solas, who had returned to his reading, and frowned again, sighing. He knew she would stubbornly deny the risk of getting closer to any of her inner circle, much less her favorite fellow mage. He would have to find some other way to discourage the strange man’s influence. He shook his head, opting for the more circuitous route through the Great Hall to the War Room for their meeting. He would see Ember again soon enough, and he would ensure her well-being there.

=====

Cullen looked across the logistics tent, evaluating his officers and Templar Knights. “And remember, these aren’t just regular mages, or even Venatori. The Grey Wardens believe they have a sacred duty to use even the most heinous and dangerous magics if it will stop the blight, even at the risk of their own lives. Stay alert. They may have abilities we have never seen before, even from Tevinter,  _ and _ the ones who have already summoned a demon are controlled by a powerful Magister. It is absolutely essential that each Templar stays with their unit to suppress the Warden mages at every opportunity. Remember, demons that have not finished manifesting from a rift can often be purged back to the fade. Every demon we don’t have to fight could be countless lives saved. Any questions?”

Knight-Lieutenant Jeanine duBois raised her hand. Cullen nodded to her. “Ser! We are the most experienced at fighting demons within the army. Should we not focus on destroying them?”

Cullen shook his head. “All but our newest recruits have at least some experience fighting demons. Let our own mages and soldiers handle the fighting. The Inquisitor’s and Seeker’s teams will handle the most powerful demons, but only Templars can nullify the Wardens’ magic. Focus on them, and be careful  _ not _ to interfere with our own mages’ spells.”

“Understood!” She nodded with a determined grin.

Cullen, Rylen, and Barris surveyed the others with pride.

“Alright, everyone, we need you armed and ready by first light!” Rylen announced. “Get some rest, and keep the nonsense to a minimum tonight. Dismissed!”

As the others filed out, Jared approached the officers. “Knight-Lieutenant Delaney,” Barris nodded. “What can we do for you?”

“I just wanted a word with Commander Rutherford,” he faced Cullen, “if you have a moment, Ser.”

Cullen nodded to his captains, dismissing them, and turned to the lieutenant. “What do you need, Jared?”

“Ser, it would be a great boost to morale if you would join the lyrium ceremony tomorrow before the battle. We know you’re not with the Order anymore - none of us are, really. But you’re still one of us.”

“You know I do not take lyrium with the Templars any longer, Jared.” Cullen frowned.

Jared’s eyes were wide, entreating. “I know Ser, and I wouldn’t ask, but everyone is so nervous about tomorrow’s battle, and I know it would mean the world to the officers if you were to show everyone you’re still down in it with us.”

“I will be on the field. I am not planning to run this battle from a tent.”

“No, of course not, Ser. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that-”

“ _ I do not take lyrium,  _ Knight-Lieutenant,” Cullen snapped at the younger man. “Not with the Order, not with the officers, and not with you. Understood?”

Jared pulled himself up to his full height, his face flushed, scowling. “Understood,  _ Ser!”  _ he replied with reproach. He turned to pull open the tent flap, pausing as if to have one last word, only to shake his head, and stalk away furiously.

\-----

In some ways, the battle was refreshing. So much of Cullen’s time was spent on the defensive against an unknowable force, to be in a righteous position of justice and mercy was almost freeing. His orders and agenda were clear: Stop all demons and any Wardens who would not stand down. Parley with any Wardens who were willing to pause, and accept their surrender. He wasn’t here to destroy, only to call a halt to an atrocity in progress.

Everyone here was ready and willing to do what needed to be done. They knew they were entirely justified in their actions, and he knew what decisions to make in advance of making them. The most difficult aspects of fighting were handled before they broke down the door; in comparison, making tactical decisions to execute their strategy was simple, and even enjoyable.

Cullen knew  _ exactly _ what he was doing. Every stroke of his blade was masterful, each gesture precise, without hesitation. Instinct persevered as doubt and confusion were drowned out by the clash of arms. He felt his blood rushing through him, twitching muscles and trembling hands soothed by the heat of battle. Nightmarish thoughts were banished by the present - by battle, skill and determination. For the first time since Kirkwall, Cullen felt fully in control of himself. 

Then the stone shattered beneath the Inquisitor’s feet, and she disappeared into a fade rift along with her companions - and all sense of control vanished. The point of his sword started to quiver in his trembling grip. His blood ran cold. The screams of demons, the clatter of swords, and the thrum of magic against his skin brought the nightmares flooding back.

Cullen watched from across the battlements in horror, unable to breathe, struggling to even move. Had there been any demons near him at that moment, he would have been struck down all too easily, but some small blessing gave him a moment of perfect, terrifying stillness in the midst of chaos.

She was lost. _ Again. _

How many times would she rush into danger, out of Cullen’s reach, leaving him helpless to do anything but watch and pray? How many times would she be asked to sacrifice her entire being for everyone else before it was enough? How many times could the Maker take her from them before He inevitably chose to keep her?

An insistent cry sounded through the haze, and Cullen felt certain he should know what that meant.

Then Cole was before him, his bizarre hat blocking Cullen’s view of the collapsed bridge, his pale hands threading into the fur of Cullen’s collar. “ _ Not gone, only not here. _ You want to be there for her, but she needs you to be  _ here _ . To fight. For her.”

Cullen gasped, lungs filling to capacity, sound resolving into the clatter and clash of combat around him.

Knight-Captain Barris was shouting. “Commander! This area is clear. What are your orders, ser?”

Cullen looked up and around. Cole had disappeared again. Warden-Commander Clarel was lost, and the dragon was down for now. Leliana’s people would already be focused on finding and neutralizing the Magister, as planned.

“Set guard units at the control points and re-focus all Templars on the main courtyard. Get those demons and abominations under control!” he called back to Barris. They would have Adamant Fortress when the Inquisitor returned. He would see to it.

=====

Settling back into Skyhold after their victory at Adamant should have been more of a comfort than it was. Cullen found himself once again buried in mundane logistics.

“Ambassador Montilyet has settled the remaining Wardens in the lower Western barracks. They have requested that their mages be kept among them, rather than lodging with the rest of the mages in the tower,” Rylen reported.

Cullen nodded. “We expected that. They have few enough left, it should be manageable. Get two volunteer Templars to move to the beds between them and the rest of the room, and don’t make a fuss about it.”

“Who should I ask first?” Rylen asked with wry amusement. “The traditionalists or the faithful?”

Cullen chuckled. “I trust your judgement.”

“Lysette has a good head on her shoulders,” Barris offered.

Rylen nodded. “She and Mattrin get on well, despite their differing views.”

Cullen wrinkled his nose. “No, take Mattrin with you when you return to Gryphon Wing. His attitude towards the Inquisitor is likely to get him into trouble if he stays here.”

Rylen laughed, “Oh, I have just the job for him, then.”

“Don’t forget to stop in with the quartermaster before you go. We used up most of the Wing’s lyrium supply staging for Adamant,” Barris reminded him. “You still have Venatori crawling around in those hills.”

“As if I could forget, after all those demons! The last thing we need is our Templars going into withdrawal when another abomination comes through,” Rylen agreed.

Cullen frowned, looking back and forth between his Captains, his heart sinking in his chest.

Rylen looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Not you, ser. You’ve been handling it.”

“Of course not.” But Cullen couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the locked drawer in his desk, carefully guarding one last emergency dose. With his Templars spread to the winds handling crises and holding down strategic posts across Southern Thedas, if an abomination broke loose here in Skyhold, especially when the Seeker was out in the field, Cullen may well be the only one left to intervene.

The Inquisitor said he’d been able to purge her mana, even in his current, reduced state, but she’d also said it was the first time any Templar had done so, and he’d done it entirely by panicked reflex, not focused intent. Could he be certain he had anything like adequate capacity to act as a Templar in case of an emergency?

Rylen placed a hand on his shoulder, and spoke low, as Barris quietly left the office. “Whatever it is you’re chewing on, Commander, let it be. You’re a good man, and you’ve got it under control. It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Cullen took a deep breath through his nose, clenching his teeth, and nodded. “Thank you, Knight-Captain. That will be all.”

\-----

They hadn't planned the gathering in the Inquisitor's quarters. Yet, somehow, most of her inner circle had found themselves there, raising their cups together in respect for the dead. It was a badly-needed respite, and most had sought their beds - or each other's - after the long night of mournful camaraderie.

Cullen remained, sitting in front of the hearth, feeling wrung out and relaxed. Whether it was the alcohol, the warmth of the fire, or the release of months of tightly-held grief, he wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t really matter. Cullen leaned back, listening to Ember discussing theology with Cassandra, admiring the way the firelight flickered in her hair and eyes.

“I’ve never seen drinking to grieve done so formally,” he spoke up with a relaxed smile. “I think it rather helps. Thank you.”

Ember smiled back at him, and he held his breath for a moment, watching her lips. “You’re welcome. Thank you for letting me!”

“We should sleep,” Cassandra said. “We have meetings in the morning.”

He nodded, sighing, and climbing to his feet. Ember held her arms out to him, and he couldn’t hold back his grin, readily pulling her into a much-needed embrace. He tilted his head down to press his lips lightly against the top of her head as she squeezed him once, and then let him go to offer Cassandra a hug as well.

He knew it wasn’t especially for him, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful to be included in the small circle of friends she trusted with this simple affection. It had been a long time since he had felt the comfortable camaraderie of such simple touches. His siblings had always been generous with hugs and shoves alike, but Templars encouraged austerity in their recruits. Cullen appreciated the opportunity to get back into a more connected habit, though he knew he would never again be the innocent boy he was before joining the Order.

Ember brought warmth to them all, it seemed.

He smiled to himself, amused at his maudlin turn of thoughts, and turned to walk down the stairs, when he heard her heavy sigh across the room.

He stopped, one hand on the top of the banister, and turned to look at her. “Is something wrong?”

She was looking at her bed, shaking her head ruefully. “Oh, nothing new. I just…I hate sleeping alone.”

His eyes grew wide, a rush of heat flooding from his chest down to his groin, and he inhaled sharply. He gripped the railing, knuckles turning white, and took a deep breath, struggling against the mad impulse to stride across the room, pick her up, and carry her to the bed. His heart thrummed in his ears, as she spoke again. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to some semblance of self-control.

“... to go from a room full of people I love to being totally alone...”

_ Maker’s breath,  _ he shook himself,  _ this woman will be the death of me. _

He sighed quietly and gave a self-mocking smile, opening his eyes just as she looked back up at him. She was blushing a deep, fetching pink. “It’s fine,” she stammered. “I’ll get over it. See you in the morning, Cullen.”

_ You don’t have to be alone. I... _ “We love you too, Ember,” he replied in slow, carefully measured words, forcing himself to release the banister one finger at a time. “Goodnight.”

\-----

Cullen staggered back to his office, each careful step in front of the last. The alcohol was giving way to fatigue, but that didn’t make him any more steady on his feet. He couldn’t decide if he wished he’d walked with Cassandra, who would undoubtedly have lent him an arm, or if he was glad she wasn’t seeing him in this state.

He muttered, cursing himself for a fool for admitting his feelings for the Inquisitor, even if it was couched in terms of the adoration of the masses. The last thing she needed was pressure from her inner circle to fulfill yet more of everyone’s needs. It seemed at times as if the whole world rested on her shoulders, and Cullen absolutely refused to add himself to her burden. He wanted nothing more than to hold her up, support her, both publicly and privately. 

He collapsed into his desk chair, not trusting himself to climb the ladder just yet, and laid his head in his crossed arms on the desk, groaning quietly.

After Haven fell, he swore to himself that he would be the Herald’s haven, if she would have him. If he could help it at all, he would never ask Ember for a single thing.

=====

Cassandra sat in Cullen’s office, her shoulders tense. Cullen frowned with concern. He respected and admired Cassandra’s commitment. More than any he’d met, Cassandra truly was a Seeker of Truth. She had always been willing to re-evaluate what she knew in light of evidence, even questioning her own choices and judgments when necessary. She did not hesitate to do what was right, no matter what it might cost her.

This was not the first time her strength and curiosity had led her to uncover corruption in the ranks of her Order, but this time there was something more to it. Cullen understood the pain of having been a part of something greater than yourself for your entire adult life only to realize that corruption had transformed belonging into a sickness. He regretted with every fiber of his being having fallen into the lull of that corruption. He admired Cassandra tremendously because she had, at every opportunity, not only resisted that corruption, but had rebelled against it, and even overturned it.

But now, here she was, doubting not just that what she had believed was true, but that commitment to truth itself.

“This book-” She shook her head. “Lambert knew the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed all along. Kirkwall was just a symptom. We could have prevented the war, Justinia’s death, all of this, if the Seekers were not so focused on keeping our secrets, on grasping desperately at the reigns of our power. I can’t say anything Lucius did was right, but…  _ Maker, _ Cullen, what have we done?”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair to look at the ceiling. “Have you told the Inquisitor?”

She sighed, nodding. “I told her first. She has approved my request to find the remaining Seekers.”

He smiled, tilting his head back down to look at her. “Of course she did.”

Cassandra’s smile was tired, but grateful. “It is hard not to doubt everything right now, but yes, I should have expected that. She is leaving the decision of whether to disband the Order or rebuild it entirely to me. In giving me this book, Lucius named me the Lady Seeker. I have never wanted to lead, but there are few remaining I would trust to take that place now.”

“Neither Order deserves it, Cassandra, but if anyone can rebuild them into something good again, it’s you.”

She pursed her lips. “You do not think I should rebuild the Order?”

Cullen sighed. “I don’t know. Everything I thought I understood about the Templars and the Seekers… Was any of it real? I miss the camaraderie sometimes. Before the blight, I was so certain I was where I needed to be, doing what I needed to do, and there was comfort in that certainty.”

Cassandra watched him with wistful eyes, but said nothing, only nodding that she was listening.

His smile was wry, and then grew pained. He looked down at his trembling fists in his lap. “Kirkwall was a haze, just following orders from day to day. Then Hawke would come before me, a vision of her cousin, shaking me out of my complacency only to plunge me straight into the nightmares. I loved her and hated her. Only the lyrium banished the nightmares. Only the Amells banished the lyrium.”

She frowned, her expression more curious than disapproving. He had not told her this before. He hadn’t told anyone this before. What had changed, that he was finally able to admit this aloud? Was it Hawke and Varric’s acknowledgement after Adamant, including him in their commiseration of surviving the madness of Kirkwall?

He shook his head. “There are days I’m amazed I got out of there alive, and days I think I never deserved to. In the end, I could not deny any longer that Hawke was right about Meredith. I helped them take her down, and I took her place, trying to clean up the mess she’d left behind. I thought they would never forgive me. I thought I would never deserve forgiveness.”

He looked up to find Cassandra smiling at him with compassion and matching pain. “Everyone who tries to do right in the eyes of the Maker deserves a chance at forgiveness.”

He smiled back. “A chance, perhaps, as individual people. But the Orders themselves? I’m not so sure. I can’t deny that magic needs to be contained, but I’m no longer certain the Templars are the right way to do that. I had hoped the Seekers would know what to do, but apparently they’re just as lost as we are.  _ Maker’s breath, _ Cassandra, is there  _ anything  _ left?”

She squared her shoulders and raised her head slightly, her chin jutted out with determination. “ _ We _ are what is left. This, here, the Inquisition. We are making it right, and when we are done, it will be up to us to build or rebuild what comes next.”

Cullen smiled in relief. Whether she was right or not, Cassandra’s will had not ebbed. She would watch over the Inquisitor, and they would help each other rebuild. She would see this through, no matter what became of him.

=====

Cullen stood on the barracks looking down over the courtyard. On a normal day the sun would glisten on the snow, but the heavy clouds cast a large shadow across the courtyard. His eye caught Ember, who was walking across the courtyard - her lively nature in deep contrast to the weather. Cullen felt his chest becoming heavy as he watched her. It was so difficult to simply watch.

Cullen felt a presence behind him, but held himself still, forcing himself to look at anyone but her.

“You’ve heard the rumors,” Knight-Lieutenant Jared spoke up behind him. It wasn’t a question.

“I have,” he replied carefully, his shoulders stiffening.

“You care about her a great deal. You know she’s been different since they returned from the Western Approach this time. What will you do?”

“It is my obligation to protect her,” Cullen bristled. “Without her, the Inquisition would be lost.”

“Of course. And she is Andraste’s Herald. We must do everything we can to protect her. Even from herself.”

Cullen growled low in his throat. “The Inquisitor is  _ not _ an abomination.”

Jared sighed. “I wasn’t suggesting she is, no matter what they’re saying. But even you must admit, her magic is stretching beyond her control. She needs us to step in. She needs  _ you _ .”

Cullen looked down at his hand. He still had trouble controlling the tremors, and some days even writing was difficult. He had given so much of himself to the Templars, and all it amounted to was disaster. He finally had a cause he truly believed in, and he couldn’t give it his all. He looked at Ember and thought of the man he had been and the one he had become. For her, he wanted to be better. Be his best.

“It’s getting worse isn’t?”

Cullen stared at Jared warily.

“The withdrawal, I mean,” Jared continued with a sympathetic smile. “I tried to get myself off it once. I’ve faced demons, blood mages, abominations… but somehow none of that seemed as terrifying as my own mind when I went off it. You’re a brave man, Cullen.”

Cullen huffed, letting his shoulders relax. “Am I? I can’t help but feel I should be taking it. I can’t work in this state. I am not at my best and she  _ deserves  _ the best.”

Jared shrugged and nodded. “And you want to protect her and the Inquisition, and you worry that you can’t?”

“Yes.” Cullen turned his back to Jared and leaned his arm against the mason wall.

“Then perhaps you should take it. For  _ her _ sake. If there is any truth to the rumors, she’ll need you at your strongest. Show her that you can protect her from anything - even magic itself.”

“I… perhaps you’re right.”

Jared placed a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “We all do what we have to do in times of trial, Commander. Don’t make things harder for yourself than they need to be.”

\-----

That night, Cullen’s eyes opened abruptly, gazing at the clouded sky through the hole in the roof of his loft. He was panting, his blood rushing, thrumming war drums in his ears again. He willed his eyes to stay open, forcing himself to breathe more slowly, counting his breaths against the nightmares.

Would he never stop dreaming of her? Solona Amell’s gentle curves, porcelain skin framed by waves of vibrant red hair, haunted his dreams. He’d been young, and infatuated, and she had seemed to return his interest. But they both knew it could never go anywhere, and indeed, it never did. One kiss the day before her Harrowing, and Greagoir had assigned him to hold the blade against her potential transformation. The message was clear, and he had stepped back.

The next time he saw her, she was struggling in the grip of blood mages, refusing the advances of a desire demon even as the other abominations tortured her. He’d held his breath, unable to intervene from inside the barrier they’d trapped him in. He knew they’d chosen to show him this, that it was meant to taunt him, to break him, but he couldn’t look away. She’d lasted longer than most, but in the end, it was too much even for her...

“No!” Cullen cried out reflexively, startling himself with the sound of his own voice in the darkness. The memory banished again, for the moment, he struggled to remember what had pulled him out of the dreams this time. A voice had been there, melodic, layered, beautiful, and yet deeply disturbing.

_ Beauty. _

Ember had somehow redeemed the desire demon that had hounded him since Kinloch. It wasn’t the same one who had forced itself on Solona; that demon had fallen to Leliana’s blades as she and the rest of the Hero’s party had cleansed the tower. Leliana had found him that day, recognizing that he was starving, that he had been tortured, and bade the others pause to care for him. Wynne had released him, and the two women gave him food and water. His former comrade, Alistair, looked on in concern, and wordlessly handed him a sword pulled from another Templar’s scabbard. The absence of the former Templar Recruit’s ubiquitous, self-deprecating jokes was as profound as the silence itself.

But the Hero of Ferelden had only watched, a smirk on his lips, and then patted Cullen on the back and told him he was safe now - as if words were enough to undo the shattering of his entire world - before moving blithely on to free the few senior Enchanters who had survived from Uldred’s final depredations.

Cullen shivered uncontrollably, sweat dripping from his forehead, and down the length of his spine. He forced himself to rise, retching, into a seated position on the edge of the bed, bracing his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, willing his stomach to settle, and his muscles to still.

The spirit now guarded Skyhold, interrupting his nightmares, and protecting the children and mages from whatever demons might steal the beauty of their dreams. He couldn’t deny that Ember’s plan seemed to be working, and he knew her intentions were pure, but he could not shake the deep sense of dread that followed each encounter with the former-demon. He had long held the suspicion that his survival in Kinloch was a result of the demon’s fascination with him - that it had intervened with the other demons, claiming him as territory, as chattel. The idea that he owed his life to a demon was nauseating. The awareness of that same spirit now saving him nearly nightly from his nightmares made his whole body crawl with anxiety and disgust and carefully suppressed rage.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, clenching his fists against his knees, and stood. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well work. The ladder to his office creaked in protest at being used at such a cold hour. He settled heavily into his chair, sighing in relief at the feel of strong wood holding him up. He lit a single candle and glanced around his desk at papers held down by glass weights Josephine had gifted him, and quills set beside bottles of deep brown oak gall ink. His eyes drifted to the locked drawer just under the ledge of his desk.

As if in a trance, he pulled the small iron key from where it was tucked into a stack of old envelopes in the bottom of a lower drawer, and opened the lock. He pulled the top drawer open and stared for a moment at the small leather case resting there, before removing it with trembling hands.

He opened the case, viewing the small vial of glowing blue powder and familiar instruments. For a time, he simply stared, breathing carefully. His jaw flexed, clenched teeth driving a spike of pain behind one eye, and he winced.

With short, jerking movements, he snapped the box shut, dropped it in the drawer, and slammed the draw closed. He turned the key, and pulled it to clench in one fist, his whole body shaking as he leaned his head into his hands, struggling just to breathe, to think, to not vomit what little food he had eaten the previous day.

Outside, one night guard called to another. “All’s quiet.”


	3. Before Me Is Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen grows increasingly concerned as Jared provokes his insecurities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! The Holiday season kicked me right off my ass, and I've only just gotten back up this week (and now I'm fighting off a cold - go figure!)
> 
> Thanks, as always to the incredible Cowoline for helping me write this angsty business, and thank you as always to UncleDark for help with ideas and editing!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Hopefully I can get the next few chapters in a more timely fashion. *Crosses fingers*
> 
> -E-

Cullen sat at his desk with his elbows resting on it and his hands knotted uncomfortably in front of his face, the key to his desk drawer clenched tightly in one fist. Only one candle on his desk was lit, while the rest of the room was drowned in darkness. Dim rays of moonlight shimmered through the windows. Cullen’s legs jittered, making a sound each time his knees collided with the desk. With a frustrated groan he leaned forward running his fingers through his hair. His thoughts kept drifting to Ember and the dangers she faced every day. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if she…  _ if she _ ... He slammed his fist into the table. He couldn’t function like this, dammit!

He walked to the window and looked over the mountain range. Who knew how long it would take Corypheus to find this place and challenge them directly, and then - willing or not - he would have to send her to him.

“Maker save me,” he muttered to himself, attempting to contain the fear in his heart.

Ember had sworn that she would support him in his choice not to take lyrium. He smiled. She was always so kind, thinking of others before herself. She deserved a better man than him. A stronger man. Someone who could actually protect her. Not some wreck prone to violent outbursts. No, he had to protect her, no matter the cost!

Cullen rose from his desk to open the door to the Northern battlements just a smidge to make sure no one was coming towards his office, but everything was quiet. He then locked each of the doors and went back to his desk. He reached for the top drawer, unlocking it again with the turn of the small key, but hesitated before drawing it open.

Ember would not want this for him, but what good was he if he couldn’t protect her or the Inquisition? He closed his eyes, hearing the screams of those who had died in his care. Perhaps fewer soldiers would have been lost at Haven if he had only been taking it. The thought of Ember’s scream brought him back to the moment, and with new determination he reached for the drawer again. 

He put the case on the desk and opened it. His fingers caressed the carving of Andraste embedded in the lid before he reached for the vial. He removed his gloves and carefully measured out half the glowing blue powder, dissolving it in the solvent, heating the liquid mixture above the candle, and then sifting it through the sieve into his water. For the first time in many months, he imbibed lyrium, feeling it spreading through his system like a storm washing detritus up on the beach.

Cullen gasped for breath as the lyrium spread into his veins. He chuckled, taking deep breaths as all the pain and nervous flutter in his body subsided. After months of drowning, he could finally  _ breathe _ . He felt entirely awake for the first time in longer than he was comfortable admitting.  _ Why had he been avoiding this? _

He sat back for a moment with a satisfied smile, letting himself feel the relief and euphoria of the lyrium, before carefully setting the implements back in their leather case, closing the box, and returning it to his drawer. He turned the key carefully, setting it back on the desk for a moment and reached up to unclasp the chain from around his neck. He strung the key onto the chain to settle beside the small Chantry sun medallion - a Templar-approved gift from his sister - and clasped the chain around his neck again, tucking it under his night shirt.

\-----

Ember sat across from Cullen, staring at the square chess board, nibbling on her lip. It would have been endearing, but Cullen couldn’t help analyzing Ember’s strategy. Not that he wouldn’t ordinarily analyze his opponent’s strategy, but Ember never had gotten the hang of planning more than two moves ahead, so it didn’t usually take his whole attention. In the past, that had allowed him the leisure to enjoy her company. Now his focus was in trying to determine if anything had changed.

She hesitantly picked up her knight, and placed it blocking his mage’s line to her queen. It was exactly the sort of short-term defensive tactic she usually employed. She hated losing options for evasion, and rarely deliberately sacrificed her pieces - even her pawns. She consistently tracked his own strategy well enough that he had to take out two-thirds of her pieces just to get at her king. She had played him to a stalemate several times recently, but had only ever beaten him twice.

It was, he realized, similar to how she handled politics. Without her advisors, she would likely have been backed into a corner long ago, but she always defended her people, seeking to minimize losses, and she was good at learning their needs and vulnerabilities. The difference was, in chess, being backed into a corner was the end of the game. In reality, backing the Inquisitor into a corner was a potentially deadly mistake.

He shook his head, fingers twitching in an erratic rhythm against the table.

She sighed. "Honestly, Cullen, I think I'm just terrible at memorizing board states."

He nodded, looking down at the board again. "You play the same as you always have."

If Ember had become possessed while in the fade at Adamant, either she was still in control, or the demon impersonated her disturbingly well. Ordinarily, Cullen wouldn’t expect a demon to be reluctant to set traps or sacrifice pieces. On the contrary, demons often treated people who were not personally crucial to their host’s well-being as expendable, and would have little compunction against cheating, if it knew the rules at all. It might be haphazard, or aggressive, but cautious was unlikely. And yet... a demon strong enough, or worse,  _ crafty _ enough to get past the Inquisitor’s stubborn will after everything she had survived? He frowned.

"Sorry I can't offer much challenge." She offered an embarrassed smile, her cheeks flushing. "If you'd rather play a game I'm good at, I can teach you  _ Gomoku _ ."

He narrowed his eyes. "What is  _ 'gomoku' _ ? You’ve never mentioned it before. Is it a game for mages?"

She gave him a quizzical look. There was, perhaps, a third possibility, he mused, listening to her babble nervously. What if the demon had been there all along? No, that was unlikely - she had behaved with compassion and consideration up to now. Unless it had only recently become corrupted by the horrors she faced, particularly at Adamant?

Cullen remembered how she looked after her first excursion to the Hinterlands. She was clearly shaken, pale and listless. Having finally had to take the life of an ordinary human being had utterly shattered her. But they didn’t have time for her to stop for more than a day to come to terms with it. After everything she had been through, was it any wonder she was vulnerable to possession now? How much could one person withstand before they broke? Especially a mage with a gentle heart, like his Herald.

“Cullen, what’s wrong?” She broke into his thoughts, startling him.

“What? Nothing is wrong, Inquisitor.” He offered her an awkward smile. “I just have a lot of paperwork waiting for me.”

She gave him a skeptical look, pursing her lips. He chuckled. Even to him, the sound was strained. “I’m grateful for the break, really, Ember.”

He nearly jumped out of his chair, reaching for his sword when Cole appeared beside them, shivering, and summoned Ember to the War Room to speak with Cassandra. She dutifully rose to meet with the Seeker while Cole turned his too-perceptive gaze on Cullen.

“You feel better blue, but the world is worse. She wouldn’t want this for you.”

“I’m fine, Cole,” Cullen declared firmly, and rose to stride purposefully back to his office.

Behind him, a quiet voice worried, “No you’re not. Blue isn’t your color, but red is worse, and I don’t have the right paint.”

\-----

_ Shapeshifting. _

Cullen took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he crossed the great hall back to his office from the Inquisitor’s chambers.

She was absolutely positive that what had transformed her in the Western Approach was shapeshifting magic, similar to that used by the infamous Witches of the Wilds. One such witch was now, as of their success in Halamshiral, one of Ember’s personal advisers, so perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised?

He shook his head, blinking.

It bothered him how many of her advisers were mages, yet how few were from trusted Southern circles. Vivienne was fine, obviously, and Dorian, at least, had proper circle training, however Tevinter in origin. Fiona’s Warden training inspired rebellion. Solas and Morrigan were, as far as Cullen was concerned, highly suspect at best. Even properly trained Circle mages will, if desperate, resort to blood magic or deals with demons. Apostates don’t know any better!

Cullen clamped his hands together, feeling a jittery sensation in his fingertips. It wouldn’t be long before he needed a new dose. He’d already used up the two half-doses he had tucked away. He closed his eyes and remembered the exhilarating, yet calming effect it had on him. He needed it if he was to deal with the situation at hand.

There was still a chance that Ember was possessed, or that the mark was somehow making her more susceptible to the influences of the fade, even as much as he wished to deny it. He  _ wanted _ to believe her and trust her at her word, to trust the judgement of the mages and that spirit boy who agreed that she’s okay. But there was no guarantee she would be aware if someone was tampering with her mind and abilities, and no guarantee that any apostate, much less a demon, was being honest with her.

His heart ached at the thought of any harm coming to her, and a part of him wanted to lock her away from the world and guard her from all harm. He shook his head, impatiently. That wasn’t right. That’s just what the Circles had been, and he knew she didn’t approve of the Circles.  _ He _ didn’t even really approve of the Circles anymore, not after what they’d become.

He shook his head again, unable to think straight. He needed more lyrium, and he would not disappoint Ember’s faith in him. She needed to believe he was strong and know that whatever happened, he would be there for her. The Commander of the Inquisition could not falter now. 

\-----

Culen sat at his desk, sorting through the latest shipment of lyrium, a duty he had forsaken until recently to keep himself from temptation. He had been concerned at first that the advisers would comment on his sudden change of heart about this duty, but aside from an amused comment from Jared that Barris shrugged off, no one had.

He took out the new vials that were half the size of the ones they usually used in the field, and slightly thicker. He had suggested ordering them to stretch their supply. It made sense. There had recently been concerns that earthquakes were starting to disrupt operations in the largest of the southern lyrium mines. Leliana had balked, worrying that a lower dose would be less effective. Ember pointed out that she rarely used a whole vial at once anyway, preferring a small gulp at most, and Dorian was the only one she traveled with regularly that she’d ever seen down a whole flask in one draught. Cassandra agreed that Vivienne tended to use the larger vials twice, and they all agreed to try the smaller vials for the inner circle first, to see if they might be easier and safer for their mages to carry in the field.

As he transferred larger potions into the smaller vials, he set aside a few for his own use, quietly deducting them from Ember’s supply. She always gave most of her supply to Dagna whenever she returned, what few she ever did use in the field almost always going to Dorian anyway. She wouldn’t miss them if there was one fewer half vial in any given batch. He set aside her supply, to give her personally, as usual.

He was still carefully counting and distributing the regular sized bottles for the in-house Templars when Ember came rushing into his office with a steaming mug in her hand, cheerfully shouting his name before she entered.

Cullen looked up, startled, flushing slightly, and glanced around nervously at the crates of glowing blue potions stacked around him. Ember saw his expression and, misunderstanding his concern, quieted immediately and whispered her next words.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were handling lyrium. I brought you a tea mixture I’ve combined. I think it might help with your perpetual headaches. It shouldn’t taste too bad either. Are you feeling okay? Would you like to try it now?”

Cullen frowned, coughing nervously. She looked so hopeful, he didn’t have the heart to tell her just yet that his headaches weren’t a problem anymore. And really, she didn’t need to know  _ why _ , it was best if she didn’t worry over his taking lyrium again anyway. 

“Ah, yes. Well, why not? Can you just place it on the desk there, I… don’t want to lose my count here.” 

Her smile was bright and understanding. “Oh, of course. Let me know how it works. There are adjustments we can make if you need more or don’t like the flavor.”

He nodded silently, forcing himself to smile. She shrugged, waving at him sheepishly, and then ran back out the direction she had come, towards the main hall.

By the time he’d finished accounting for the lyrium rations for the coming weeks, the tea had stopped steaming. Cullen sighed, picking up the mug and sniffing the contents. Elfroot, embrium, black tea, spices, and… he wasn’t sure what the other, unfamiliar smells were. He took a sip and tasted the black pepper and honey. He wrinkled his nose at the grassy and bitter flavors the spices and honey failed to cover, and shook his head.

Standing up with a sigh, he picked his way between the crates to the side door, and stepped out onto the battlements to lean against the stone ledge. She meant well. It made him feel warm inside that she cared so much about all of them - about him - to do things like this when her time had so many demands on it already. With a mixture of regret and relief, he quietly poured the strange tea over the edge of the wall. He didn’t have a headache anyway.

\-----

Cullen stopped in front of Cassandra at breakfast, smiling with fond amusement to see that her latest book was yet another of Varric’s tawdry novels. He knocked gently on the table in front of her when she didn’t look up after a moment, and cleared his throat.

“Barris and I are going over upcoming troop movements with Lieutenants Serin Abrahas and Jared Delaney at third bell. Join us?”

“Of course,” she nodded smartly, immediately returning to her novel, taking a hesitant bite of the pastry in her hand as her eyes eagerly scanned the page. Cullen couldn’t hold back his grin as he walked away. Cassandra had no idea how adorable she was when she got lost in a book like that. She’d probably skin any of them alive if they tried to tell her that, of course. Well, Leliana and Ember could probably get away with it, and Varric had his own strange charm. But Cullen doubted he could.

There wasn’t much point in starting paperwork with only half an hour or so to the meeting. He wandered across to the garden where Ember was performing her devotions for the day. - a series of gestures and open-throated singing - and settled into a chair in the gazebo near the table where they usually played chess.

He wasn’t sure if the Herald realized how much of an audience she sometimes collected when she did this. He’d heard her sing the same songs with words at one point in a more private setting, and knew they referenced to her own gods from home. At first it had bothered him. Not only did she worship false gods, but they weren’t even gods he’d heard of before. But she had demonstrated respect for the Maker and Andraste, and seemed to encourage everyone to continue with the faith they had, even bolstering that faith deliberately at times, rather than drawing people away from their proper Andrastian devotions.

As he watched, Ember lifted her arms, finishing her wordless song, before silently bowing her head. He glanced around to see who else was watching her, smiling to see how it pleased them to watch the Herald’s devotions. Then he pursed his lips, his forehead creasing with concern at spotting Solas watching her as well. The elven apostate’s impassive expression hid his thoughts as always.

As she finished, Solas approached her. “Do you perhaps have time for training, Inquisitor?” he suggested diffidently. “We should continue your work with rift magic.”

Ember grinned, and nodded, following him out of the garden. Cullen stood back up and took the stairs to the battlements, walking up and around to reach a view of the upper courtyard, where the two mages had drawn a circle to train within.

Solas was adjusting Ember’s posture with careful hands on her waist, elbows, and wrists. Cullen had noticed that she was comfortable initiating touch with most of her friends, but was easily startled if most others initiated touch, including him. Not with Solas, though, apparently.

Cullen frowned. Having the apostate train her made some sense, given his expertise, but there must have been a qualified Circle mage who could assist as well.

He shook his head, resisting a full-body shiver of fear and disgust. He made a mental note to check in with her about that. Or no, perhaps he should suggest Cassandra do it?

“I don’t trust him either,” a low voice behind him offered.

He turned to find Knight-Lieutenant Delaney looking down into the courtyard. Cullen raised an eyebrow at the younger man.

“The knife-ear,” Jared clarified. “I don’t trust him. He’s always hovering around the Inquisitor, watching everything she does. You know he’s manipulating her, right? You’ve seen how he acts when she’s around. Totally different when she’s not looking.”

“I… have noticed,” Cullen hesitated, looking down to the courtyard again. “It may simply be that he enjoys her company as he does few others,” he suggested in a strained voice. He wanted to be reasonable, but in truth, he couldn’t help but doubt the apostate’s intentions.

Jared’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You think everybody loves her because you do,” he laughed, and then shook his head, sobering. “But you know that’s not true. Half our allies would kill her in a second if they thought it would bring them more power. We have to watch them, protect her. With our lives if necessary.”

“And so we do.” He replied dryly, turning back to Jared with one eyebrow raised. “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?”

Jared looked at him with surprise. “Oh, I apologize, Commander… I just can’t help but wonder how he evaded the Templars so completely. I mean, even the Dalish had their share of run-ins, and they have whole clans to guard them.”

“He is a wanderer and very discreet,” Cullen admonished, his jaw tense. Then he sighed, shoulders dropping. “Still, I must confess I have had some… concerns about this as well.”

“I don’t mean to accuse anyone, but the only mages who ever managed to evade us for so long were maleficarum. Or people like that apostate, Anders, who had the Wardens to hide him. We’ve seen how well that worked out. When I think of the damage he caused…”

Cullen felt a chill go through him. He still had nightmares about everything that happened in Kirkwall. The Knight-Commander being insane was one thing, but he knew that, despite her vigorous approach, it was not the truly dangerous mages they managed to capture. It seemed to be mostly children, mages frightened of their power, or people whose circumstances had become so desperate they couldn’t help but reveal themselves, that ended up filling the Gallows’ halls. Meanwhile, those who were a true threat, like Quentin or Anders, managed to evade the Templars for years.

Solas seemed harmless.

Perhaps that was exactly the problem. 

Cullen grunted quietly, shaking his head, and looked back up to the younger man. “I will see you in the War Room shortly, Lieutenant.” Jared nodded as Cullen turned to leave, only to look over his shoulder as he departed. “Oh, and Lieutenant? Watch your language.”

\-----

“We’re spread too thin in Orlais,” Knight-Captain Delrin Barris drummed his fingers on his bracer, strong nails tapping on steel. 

Cassandra had yet to join them, but the other officers in Skyhold had gathered around the war table maps to evaluate troop movements. Cullen nodded as he evaluated the missions in the West.

“Fairbanks has the south well in hand. We can probably pull some units out of the Graves safely,” Knight-Lieutenant Serin Abrahas mused. Cullen nodded again, tentatively moving two of the markers north to Emprise du Lion.

“Surely we don’t need to send both units to just Emprise? The situation there is bad, but it’s stable. The plains are still on fire in places, and there’s a dragon in the swamps there we have yet to deal with.” Knight-Lieutenant Jared Delaney picked up one of the markers and moved it to the Crow Fens.

Cullen shook his head, reaching for the marker. “The Inquisitor is leaving for Emprise du Lion in three days.”

“Exactly,” Jared touched his arm. “Her team will handle the worst of it. They don’t need two full units under foot.”

Cullen sighed. Serin gave him a worried glance, but Delrin just nodded thoughtfully. They all looked up towards the door as it creaked open, Seeker Pentaghast entering immediately after.

“You began without me?” she asked, frowning at the war table.

“Not really. We were just tossing around a few ideas,” Jared assured her. “The dragon in the Crow Fens still needs addressing.”

Cassandra nodded. “My team can take care of that.”

“Will you need a unit of soldiers?” Serin asked her.

She shook her head. “I doubt it, but the bridge to the Citadelle is still out, and we have not heard from Celene’s troops stationed there in some time.”

Cullen sighed as Serin moved the marker from the Fens to the river. “I would prefer more reinforcements in Emprise du Lion if possible. The red lyrium mines are reported to be quite extensive.”

“Lieutenant Harding is already there with her crew. If we redirect Knight-Lieutenant Primmer’s unit to the Emprise, that should be more than adequate. The mines are mostly filled with addled miners, not Samson’s men,” Jared asserted. Cullen frowned, but nodded.

“Vale reports the situation outside Redcliffe is stable,” Delrin read off the parchment in his hand. “His troops at the crossroads are negotiating with Bella in the Gull and Lantern for temporary lodging and blankets for more of the refugees as we process as many of them back to their homes as possible.”

“The Blades of Hessarian report reduced Venatori presence, but the red lyrium in the dwarven port remains,” Serin read. “As far as they have observed, nothing has moved in over two weeks. it’s unclear whether operations have been abandoned entirely, or merely suspended temporarily. They request further instructions.”

“The Inquisitor will make a decision on that,” Cullen replied.

“Sutherland’s company reports success dealing with the minor Darkspawn threat on Lord Presmond-Als’ land. As Leliana predicted, nobody paid his small group, or the two Wardens we sent with them out of uniform, any mind,” Cassandra recited from a report Cullen handed her.

“Rylen has the Western Approach well in hand. Leliana’s agents are handling Crestwood. How is Knight-Lieutenant duBois doing?” Cullen asked, looking up and around for whoever had the requisite report.

“Jeanine’s letter arrived yesterday asking for reinforcements to Fort Revasan,” Serin replied. “The Inquisitor’s team settled the rifts and the worst of the undead, but there are still more demons and wandering corpses than Marshall Proulx feels equipped to handle.”

“Maker’s breath, what’s the point of allying with armies who won’t fight?” Cullen muttered. He picked up the marker near the river and moved it to the fort. “Alright, send the reinforcements directly to her. They can look at rebuilding the bridge when there’s fewer demons to interrupt their work. Anything else?”

“Leliana has sent her scouts to the Northwest. If she’s right, there are Venatori gathering resources and possibly troops in the desert, preparing to attack Western Orlais,” Cassandra added.

“We’ll have to hope the Empress has collected her people adequately by then,” Cullen sighed. “We’re stretched far too thin as it is. Ah, well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, no doubt. Dismissed.”

Cassandra nodded, and bowed slightly before leaving the room.

Delrin turned to the others, grinning. “Diamondback?”

Serin grunted in agreement. Cullen shook his head, still staring at the map.

“I’ll catch up,” Jared assured them. Once they were alone, he placed a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “There is something you can do for her.”

Cullen looked up at Jared warily.

“The apostate. He’s a poor choice to accompany her. He favors demons and doesn’t even use the lyrium rations he’s given. If she won’t take a Circle mage, at least send Lord Pavus. ‘Vints drink lyrium like it’s mother’s milk. He’ll know his way around a lyrium mine, red or blue.”

Cullen shook his head. “Given a choice, the Inquisitor always takes Solas with her.”

“Then don’t give her a choice,” Jared pressed.

“That’s not my decision to make, Lieutenant,” Cullen scowled.

Jared held up his hands, appeasing the Commander. “I’m not suggesting you give her orders. But if the apostate is busy elsewhere…” he spread his hands suggestively. “His expertise is the fade, right? The veil is unstable all over Southern Thedas. I’m sure he could be more useful somewhere less… distracting.”

Cullen grunted, his eyebrows furrowed as he returned to studying the war table. He did not look up as Jared’s footsteps faded, and the door thumped shut.

\-----

Cullen walked into the rotunda and found Solas at his desk. In some ways Cullen found it odd that such a private individual would stay in one of the most exposed rooms in Skyhold. Even Leilianna could see him in this room, and anyone from servants to officials would need to pass through this room on occasion.

Cullen shook his head, silently scolding himself. He was just being paranoid. Surely someone with something to hide would choose a more secluded location. Unless… What if they wanted to give a false sense of security to those watching? He lifted his eyes to regard the elven apostate, and exhaled slowly.

Solas looked up from his desk and greeted him with his usual friendly demeanor. “Commander, what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I might ask you some questions?”

“Of course, though I am not sure how much insight I can offer. You seem to have your duties well in hand.”

Flattery… had it been a mere month earlier, Cullen would have thought it sincere, as Solas had always seemed honest when giving his opinion. Now Cullen could not look at the elf without wondering about his ulterior motive. When had that changed?

“We have had some reports about the Venatori, and the descriptions of their abilities seem… unusual.”

“I see,” Solas tilted his head slightly, folding his hands on the desk in front of him, and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Cullen cleared his throat. “While I was in Kirkwall we received reports of a boy named Feynriel who exhibited talents much like your own. I learned later that Hawke helped him escape custody, first to the Dalish, and later to Tevinter for special training. She insisted the boy was not a threat.”

“It seems he was more fortunate than most, considering the usual fate that awaits those who harbor such talents,” Solas’ smile was wry. Before, Cullen would have considered it a quiet joke they shared. Now it seemed as though the elf was silently mocking him.

“Perhaps… A few years later we found a woman on the Wounded Coast, who had been captured by slavers. She was delirious. She said Feynriel visited her in dreams, and that he had somehow slaughtering the slavers who had captured her from a distance.”

“And you believed her, despite her apparent delirium?” Solas raised an eyebrow. “But why bring this to me, Commander? Surely Lord Pavus is a better resource on Tevinter.”

Cullen felt his heart pound faster. He needed to stay in control of this, but deception had always been something he avoided or uncovered - never a tool he used himself. 

“You have demonstrated… unique… knowledge of magic from all parts of Thedas.  _ Can _ you confirm that such a thing is truly possible?”

Solas pursed his lips for a moment, seeming to consider what he was going to say, before speaking. “Yes, Commander. It _ is _ possible, but it would require not only incredible talent, but considerable training as well. I must point out how rare this gift is, and not only due to the Rite of Tranquility. Even in Tevinter, where they are sought out in earnest, they are all but extinct. Among the Venatori, such abilities would be greatly valued indeed, if they could find even one mage so capable.” He shook his head, smiling slightly. “I must admit that it is not impossible, but I find it highly unlikely, if that is your concern.”

Solas’ tone was sincere and his demeanor relaxed, and yet Cullen couldn’t shake the sensation that Solas was looking through him, exposing every deception and revealing even Cullen’s darkest deeds. Solas paused, calmly waiting for Cullen’s response.

Cullen swallowed, and squared his shoulders. “That… yes, that is my concern. We already know one such mage was trained in Tevinter, and somehow we have two among us here in the Inquisition’s inner circle entirely by chance. How would we know if such a mage were sent against us? How might we protect the Inquisition against it?”

Solas raised his eyebrows, regarding him steadily. “The Inquisitor and I have taken some steps to protect those within Skyhold, at least. In the field, that is another concern entirely. What brought this to mind at this time, Commander? Is there something that requires our attention?”

Cullen’s nostrils flared, as he searched, silently frantic, for what to say next. Was he a fool for trying to hide anything from Solas? What if the mage had been observing his dreams as he slept? Or those of other members of the Inquisition? The Inquisitor had visited Cullen’s dreams once or twice, but only ever to save him from demons. Cullen doubted Solas was as unequivocally benevolent.

Even to a novice Templar, it would have been obvious that Solas was a talented mage, and there was no doubt in Cullen’s mind that if killing a man from within his dreams was possible, then this elf possessed the ability. Such a mage could take down the entire organization from within.

Cullen’s eyes narrowed slightly, and then he shrugged, trying to affect a casual attitude. “We’ve received several reports of strange magic from the West. They reminded me of the boy, and I realized we had an expert among us that I could easily ask.”

He pursed his lips, making a decision in that moment. “Would you be willing to go to the University of Orlais for us, to investigate further possibilities for defense? I have been informed that there are books in their special collection on the fade and dreaming that they will not allow to be removed from the premises. There may be something in their collection that can make an urgent difference for our agents in the West.”

Solas nodded slowly, his expression again impassive. “If that is your command.”

Cullen’s hands twitched, the need for lyrium growing stronger again. He had tried to limit himself to small doses, but with each time he took it, the craving deepened.

_ “I am your aid, and your blessing,” _ it sang, “ _ What is the harm? _ ”

Cullen nodded to Solas and strode out the door towards his office.  _ More. _ He needed  _ more. _

\-----

Just over a week later, Lieutenant Harding came striding into Cullen’s office during the dinner hour, breathing hard, and declared, “We need reinforcements to Sahrnia immediately, Commander. The hills are swarming with Red Templars, and many of the villagers have been taken captive. The Inquisitor’s team is doing what they can, but five people against the whole mountainside isn’t going to be enough.”

Cullen looked up, his eyebrows raised with alarm. “You should have received a unit of soldiers from the Emerald Graves under Primmer’s command.”

“They hadn’t arrived yet when I left,” she replied, still catching her breath. “When did you send them?”

“They were redirected last week,” he frowned, looking through the piles of papers on his desk for the copy of the orders sent. He gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk, and Harding sat down, nodding gratefully.

“Well, I came straight up the hill, so maybe they’re still on the way. One unit probably won’t be enough, though.”

“I am not certain who else we even could send on such short notice. Perhaps Leliana will have resources I do not.” He stood up immediately, intent on finding the Spymistress, and Harding scrambled to catch up. They strode together across the bridge to the rotunda, Harding taking two steps for each of Cullen’s. As they passed through Solas’ office, Cullen’s stomach dropped with worry. Perhaps he shouldn’t have redirected the apostate? They could undoubtedly use his power now…

Halfway up the stairs to the library, Knight-Lieutenant Delaney’s voice reached them from the doorway to the Great Hall where most of the castle would be eating their dinner.

“Commander!”

Cullen turned slightly as he reached the top of the stairs to call down over the mezzanine rail, “Report!”

“I saw you rushing! What news?”

“I need to discuss potential reinforcements to Sahrnia with the Sister.”

“What? Why?” Jared looked alarmed, his whole body tense.

“Primmer has not arrived,” Cullen explained, glancing around the mostly-empty library. “Harding reports greater numbers than expected.”

“Maker’s breath! I will take the other Templars and Wardens immediately, Ser!”

Cullen pursed his lips. “Not the Wardens. We may also have agents to send.”

Jared nodded acknowledgement. “Do you want me to wait?”

Cullen took a deep breath, and shook his head. “No, the agents have faster routes. They’ll make their own way. You go now and size up the situation. They will check in with you when they arrive - if they don’t pass you along the way.”

“Immediately, Ser!” Jared saluted, and rushed back out the door to the Great Hall.

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment, willing his heart to slow. He turned to Harding. “Find Primmer. He was with Fairbanks. He should have taken his company to Sahrnia by now.”

“On it,” Harding promised, and turned to leave.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen spotted the Inquisitor’s handmaid. He turned to look, and found her staring with a worried expression.

“Is the Inquisitor in danger, Ser?” the elven woman asked nervously.

“The Inquisitor is always in danger,” he nodded solemnly. “We will do what we must to protect and care for her, just as you do when she is here.”

“I… yes, Ser, of course, Ser.” The maid bowed and left him to scurry off somewhere. He realized he wasn’t sure what she did when the Inquisitor was away from the hold. He shook his head and turned back up the stairs. Household staff was Josephine’s problem.

He needed to talk to the Spymistress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created first names for the "Veteran Lieutenants" from Champions of the Just, and did my best to figure out who all are known officers within the military branch of the Inquisition. Turns out, there are precious few! Knight-Lieutenant Jared Delaney is OC, in case that wasn't clear.
> 
> -E-


	4. A Thousand Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is confronted with the results of his errors, and makes a drastic choice to atone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Weary waves* So, I suspect I'll be getting these last couple chapters of this detour out at about the same rate as the last two - 3-4 weeks apiece. They're much harder to write than the main story, and my health and sleep schedule have been wonky as hell lately.
> 
> But I do have a solid outline of what's going on, and there's still a lot already written of the main story when we return, so rest assurred, at whatever pace my body can handle, the show WILL go on!
> 
> Thank you all for coming along for this crazy ride. Kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated.
> 
> Thank you to Cowoline and UncleDark for their help and advice.
> 
> -E-

Cullen inspected the barracks hoping to keep his mind occupied. Inspections were always tense, but Cullen could tell that the men were on edge. He kept barking orders and even the smallest indiscretion or quarters less than tidy was severely reprimanded - to the point where a scout wondered out loud if they were to get flogged for having unpolished boots. That scout was mucking out the stables on his own as Cullen returned to his desk.

In truth, he knew he had been too hard on the recruits. He reminded himself of what he was like in Kirkwall. Hard. Uncompromising… corrupt. Cullen buried his face in his hands, wincing with shame. He needed more lyrium, but he had used up twice as much as he did on an average day. It did nothing to calm his nerves and instead made him feel even more on edge. He breathed heavily, trying to get some control over himself. What sort of Commander was he, when even breathing steadily proved a challenge?

Cullen threw himself back in his chair and closed his eyes. He wanted to sob as he thought of Ember. Had he not done everything in his power to keep her safe?

“Oh dear Maker, let her be safe. Maker forgive me, why must I send her away?” He begged.

He had spent the morning praying that she would return. That, by some miracle, they might hear from her. But his prayers weren’t answered. They never seemed to be. He had given his life to the Chantry, and now even his mind. He could feel a part of himself slipping away with each dose, and at that moment it seemed Maker-sent. Perhaps the lyrium would finally steal the knowledge of what he had done from him, letting him forget his ill-advised infatuation with her.

The door opened and Cullen shot up from his seat as he saw Cassandra.

“Any news?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but part of his eagerness and dread slipped through.

“I fear not, Commander. I am concerned that we could go so long without any word from them.”

Cullen sighed, shaking his head. “I concur. It unsettling for all of us. Even the men in the barracks.”

“Leliana has sent more of her scouts out today, but with every passing hour our chances of finding them grows dimmer.” Cassandra folded her arms across her chest and shook her head.

Cullen slammed his fist into the table, knocking several items off of it. “How are we supposed to protect the world, when we cannot even ensure the safety of our Herald?!”

Cassandra looked to the floor - her eyes fixed on something. Cullen looked down and saw his lyrium kit lying on the floor, blessedly latched shut. Did Cassandra recognize it? Cullen swallowed. He should have remembered to put it back in the drawer before she came in. Cassandra sighed and shook her head, looking back up at him.

“We must remain vigilant. If people lose faith in the Inquisition, we lose everything.” She gave him a small smile. “Take heart, Cullen. She returned to us from Redcliffe, from Haven, from Adamant. She will return from this.”

She walked out the door, closing it behind her. Cullen got to his knees on the floor, picking up the kit for his lyrium. He curled over and placed both hands on the floor. With nothing left - no hope, no dignity or honor - Cullen did the only thing he could. He prayed:

_ “Let her not be left to wander  
The drifting roads of the Beyond.  
For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
Nothing that He has wrought should be lost.” _

\-----

“COMMANDER!” The Iron Bull’s bellow startled Cullen out of an unintended nap.

He sat up at his desk and called back, “Report!” as Bull came striding through the side door to his office.

“War room!” Bull barked, turning to stride purposefully towards the main hall.

Cullen groaned, running a hand through his hair. He glanced around his desk, blinking. His heart was racing, equal parts lyrium withdrawal, anxiety over the Inquisitor’s absence, and alarm at being woken up in such a manner. But, if Bull was back, that must mean the Inquisitor was back as well, and, from the sound of it, with ill news.

His heart’s racing increased, now with excitement to see her again, even if it was just so she could deliver an urgent war report. He rushed to cross the battlements to the main hall, finding a  _ very _ disheveled Dorian rushing down the stairs through the rotunda.

“Commander!” the mage called to him on his way by, not even pausing to greet him properly. He sounded agitated. Cullen frowned, and jogged to catch up, all but chasing him into the war room. Cassandra entered right after them. Bull and Leliana were already there.

The Inquisitor was not.

Cullen looked around, breathing hard. “Where is she?”

Leliana turned, crossing her arms, and nodded to the Iron Bull.

Bull went very still, and reported in a matter-of-fact voice: “The Inquisitor and Varric have been captured. We think they’re being held in Suledin Keep, but we can’t be sure how long they’ll hold her there. We’re pretty sure they’ll keep her alive, but we have no idea if they’ll bother with Varric.”

Cullen’s blood ran cold with fear and fury. “You  _ lost _ her?” He growled low in his throat, but Cassandra put a hand on his arm.

“Explain,” she demanded in a firm voice.

Bull stared at Cullen with one steely eye. “We were overwhelmed. The place was swarming with Red Templars. We couldn’t retreat. We couldn’t advance. They attacked us in the trenches of the mines.” He leaned on the table, both arms flexing. “Where the fuck were those reinforcements, Cullen?”

“We sent two units!” Cullen objected, dismayed. “We knew the first were delayed for some reason, so we deployed a unit of Templars directly to you as quickly as possible!”

“You’re sure about that?” Bull growled.

“Positive! Knight-Lieutenant Delaney led them himself. He left within hours of Harding’s arrival with your message!”

Bull looked at Leliana, eyebrow raised. She nodded slowly, frowning.

Bull growled again. “ _ Shit. _ ”

Dorian’s voice was sharp and clear, and he spoke rapidly. “This wasn’t a fluke. They must have been watching us, waiting for us. We should never have been sent in with such a small group, especially not without Solas. Ember was nearly incapacitated by the red lyrium song, far worse than at Redcliffe. They lured her into the mines deliberately by capturing more of the villagers and holding them in cages just before we arrived. They waited to attack us directly until Varric was distracted with unlocking a cage, and deliberately drew me and Bull away. Then they sent in a second wave to capture Varric and Ember. The didn’t care about us at all. They only cared about dividing our party so they could capture the Inquisitor.”

“Cole was with you. Was he captured?” Leliana asked.

“I don’t think Cole  _ can _ be captured.” Dorian shook his head. “He blamed himself. The red lyrium drowned out her thoughts, and he couldn’t track her through the mines. As soon as we found she was gone, he looked towards the keep and disappeared. We returned to the main camp as quickly as possible.”

“I’m assuming they haven’t sent a ransom demand,” Bull looked at Leliana. She shook her head. “Didn’t think so,” he rumbled. “They want control of the anchor.”

Dorian was seething. He looked between Leliana and Cullen. “You told us the mines were being run by a skeleton crew, that there had been no evidence the keep was populated for weeks. That’s why you sent us when you did instead of waiting for Solas to get back.”

“Last my scouts had seen before we sent you, it was,” Leliana confirmed. “That must have changed between when you left and when you arrived.”

“I know our presence isn’t entirely subtle, Sister, but that only tells them where we _ are _ , not where we are going, yes?” Dorian asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Correct.”

Bull growled, gritting his teeth. “So they knew we were coming, and that the Inquisitor would be vulnerable.” He looked at Leliana. “That’s a  _ problem. _ ”

“So it would seem.” Leliana’s tone was deadly flat.

Cullen shook his head, frantic. “No. No, it doesn’t make sense. We had it under control!”

“No, Commander, we absolutely did  _ not _ have it under control,” Dorian snapped. “Someone has betrayed us.”

\-----

Cullen sat at his desk in his office. His lyrium kit sat closed in the locked drawer. He couldn’t bring himself to take the next dose, though every nerve in his body screamed in withdrawal.

This was his fault. Somewhere, somehow, he’d let something slip, he was sure of it. A slow, sinking sense of dread settled in his stomach. Reviewing the last several months through the throbbing headache making him nauseous and dizzy was a challenge, but no matter how he sifted through his memories, the answer was the same: Jared Delaney.

He had to confirm or deny this. Could he trust Barris to help with the files? No, he was fairly certain Barris was loyal, but right now was no time to take risks. Cassandra, then.

“Runner!” he barked out, and a moment later a scout ducked her head into his office.

“Ser!”

“I need Seeker Pentaghast immediately. Tell her to bring her copies of the last six weeks’ reports!” He sighed, his tone gentling - it wasn’t the scout’s fault his mood was terrible. “And, please tell her I have a headache.”

The scout gave him a sympathetic smile, and immediately began running towards the upper courtyard.

By the time he had the requisite reports pulled out and sorted, Cassandra had appeared at his door with a stack of her own reports, and a large mug.

“The tea blend Ember left for you had gone a bit stale, so the cook suggested I add fresh embrium and mint.” She wrinkled her nose. “It smells strange.”

Cullen rubbed between his eyes, wincing. “I’ll take it.”

“What are we looking for?” she asked, pulling up the spare chair.

He frowned. “I’m not sure I should tell you. An objective perspective could be valuable.”

“Do we have time for me to guess?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grunted, nodding, then shook his head. “No, we don’t.” He looks up, meeting the Seeker’s eyes. “Jared.”

Her eyes hardened. She nodded curtly, and immediately set to work.

Several hours later, they had half a dozen minor discrepancies to compare with Leliana’s reports, but no concrete proof. The doors were closed against the evening chill, and the candles had burned low.

Cullen slammed his fist on the desk. “What am I missing?!”

Cassandra steadily lit another candle. “These are only the officer reports, yes? Why don’t we look through the associated scout reports. In particular, I’d like to see the messenger records for the two units of reinforcements that apparently never arrived.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He shook his head, swallowing hard. It was ludicrous, but he suddenly felt like he was holding back tears. Cassandra reached across the desk to place a hand on his wrist, wordlessly. He closed his eyes, swallowing again and taking several deep, measured breaths, and then nodded. “I will get the scout reports.”

Cassandra stood up, stretching her legs. “No, I’ll get the scout reports.” She looked up as the half-tenth bell rang. “Leliana wants to reconvene in the war room at eleventh bell. I’ll find the requisite reports and meet you there.” She turned as she reached the doorway, frowning with concern. “Finish your tea, Cullen.”

He nodded absently as she shut the door behind herself, and returned his gaze to the reports on the table. Dorian had said they shouldn’t have been there without Solas. Why? What would Solas have done differently?

Cullen shook his head. He already knew the answer to that. Everyone in the inner circle was devoted to the Inquisitor, but not like Solas. Jared convinced him that it was because Solas wanted something inappropriate from her, that he was manipulating her, leading her on. And he’d believed it, because it was what he wanted to hear - that the man Ember looked to first wasn’t good enough for her, that he might be better.

He got up to pace the room. He needed to stretch his legs, but he didn’t want the men to see him like this. Jared had encouraged him to take lyrium again. Why? He said it was to make him stronger. That was what the Templars had always been told, what he had himself feared was the case. But why would Jared want him stronger? It didn’t make sense.

When Jared left he had specifically taken the remaining Templars. He’d wanted to take the remaining Wardens, rather than regular soldiers, but Cullen had objected. Which soldiers had he taken?

Cullen riffled through the reports on his desk to find the rolls from the mornings before and after Jared’s departure. Two scouts and a handful of recruits had returned from the crossroads outside Redliffe, and all the remaining Templars other than himself and Barris had left. No one else. He didn’t take more soldiers. How could he miss something so  _ obvious?  _ Hadn’t he checked these reports at the time? They had his initials on them as always.

Cullen turned and punched the ladder several times with increasing force, swearing and growling. The fucking lyrium. Too much of his job required him to remember, to track old answers and compare them with news, and he had been failing for weeks.

He sat down hard in his desk chair, growling, and pulled the key from around his neck to unlock the drawer. He fished out his lyrium kit, grabbed the most pertinent reports, and turned to head to the war room.

He had to tell them.

\-----

Cullen squared his shoulders bracing himself to open the War Room door. After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he shoved the door open with one arm, his hands full with papers and his kit of lyrium tools, empty of lyrium.

“There is something I have to-” Before he could finish his sentence, he found himself shoved against the stout door and a knife pressed to the side of his neck by a startlingly strong spymistress. “...what?”

“How long have you been working with them,  _ Commander _ ?” she hissed through her teeth, her face a snarled mask of fury.

Cassandra placed a placating hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t move a muscle, and Cullen didn’t dare so much as swallow with her very sharp knife already just breaking the skin. Beyond them, all he could see was the war map illuminated by a single candle.

“He didn’t know, Leliana. You can not fault him for trusting a man even you did not catch in his duplicity. He was extremely cautious!”

“Can you prove he isn’t in league with them?”

“If Cullen was in league with the Red Templars, we would never have gotten this far. You know that.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he changed his mind more recently. Can he be trusted now that he’s back on lyrium?”

Cassandra sighed and shook her head. “He’s only been back on lyrium for a handful of weeks, and he has spent the entire time paranoid over Ember’s safety.”

Cullen’s eyes widened with dismay. “You knew?”

Cassandra nodded, frowning with sympathy. “I could sense the increase of lyrium in your blood, but I thought perhaps I was mistaken until I saw your kit on the floor. Still, we trust all the other Templars and the mages with lyrium ingestion. The only reason for keeping a special eye on you was that you requested it while you were in withdrawal. I saw no reason to doubt your loyalty, and no reason before today to doubt your competence.”

“The point remains, we have been betrayed by one of his Templar officers, who he has been working with closely for months. Why should I trust him now? Either the lyrium clouded his judgement, and let this man slip through, or he did it deliberately. Either way, he is a danger to us, and we are better off rid of him.” Leliana snarled again.

“Ember would not approve of that. She didn’t even want you to kill Butler, and he was a confirmed spy.” Casandra entreated.

Leliana pulled her knife from his neck a fraction, barely enough for him to swallow uncomfortably, but did not move otherwise.

“We will decommission him. Perhaps we can promote Rylen and send Barris to replace him.”

“No!” Cullen objected. “I… want to help. Please, if you want me to step down after she is returned to us, I understand, but please, I have to find her, I have to… “ He looked between their eyes, desperate to convince them. Leliana was shaking her head, slowly, and Cassandra looked dismayed.

“I… burn it! Burn the lyrium from my blood! I know you can do that, Cassandra! Please! I’ll do anything, just let me find her, let me go with you. I need to do this!”

Leliana’s eyes widened and she stepped away from him, giving him room to breathe. He held out his kit to Cassandra and the reports to Leliana, who was still scowling at him, but at least looked less likely to murder him outright.

Cassandra looked at the kit in her hands, unlatching it to gaze at the carving of Andraste. She ran a finger along one side of the figure’s face, and then looked up at Cullen. “If I do that, it will kill you.”

“You could have someone heal me at the same time.”

“Even if someone were to heal you continuously, it would be torture. It would demoralize the Inquisition to watch you suffer like that. It could take hours. We can not have the entire healers guild at hand.”

“I will do it.” A quiet voice spoke up from the shadows beyond the candles. Solas stepped forward, his face stern.

Cullen looked to Leliana, his eyebrows furrowed.

“We compared notes, Commander. It seems you deliberately maneuvered Solas out of position with a spurious research mission that could easily have been handled by our Circle mages, just so you could send the  _ Tevinter _ mage known to be a  _ distraction _ to the Inquisitor’s bodyguard.” 

“I… I didn’t. I mean…” Cullen stuttered as Solas raised an eyebrow at him. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I sent him away deliberately, yes, but that wasn’t why. Perhaps that was why Jared suggested it, but my own reasoning was… flawed, yes…” He shook his head.

“What, precisely, was your reasoning, Commander?” Solas asked, his tone flat, curious, eerie in its lack of menace.

“I feared you were a bad influence on the Inquisitor.”

“And why is that?” Solas pressed.

“Because you are not Circle trained. Because she looks to you before any other mage for advice. Because…” He sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Because I was...” He bit his lip, and squeezed his eyes shut, cringing.

“Because he was jealous.” Leliana spat out.

Cullen nodded silently, looking back down at them, ashamed.

“I see.” Solas turned to the two women. “Sister, Seeker, it is not my place to decide what you do with the Commander, but if I may make a suggestion?”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows, while Leliana nodded sharply.

He clasped his hands behind his back. “I agree with Cassandra that he is guilty of no more than folly. He is willing to pay an excruciating price for the privilege of correcting his error. He remains your best strategist for siege warfare, and his tactics for close combat in that context have served us well. To the best of our knowledge, the Inquisitor is being held in a fortified keep. Can we afford to discard those abilities precisely when we need them most?”

“I don’t believe so,” Cassandra agreed immediately, with obvious relief.

Leliana pursed her lips, staring at Solas for a moment, and then Cullen, before finally nodding. “If he is willing to have the lyrium burned from his blood, and you can return him to capacity in time to aid us, we will accept his help. The Inquisitor will decide his fate after she is returned to us.” She turned to Cullen. “But if she dies,  _ Commander _ …”

It was all Cullen could do not to sob at the very idea.  _ If she died, he would have nothing left to live for.  _ He dared not voice the thought, he simply nodded his acquiescence.

Solas sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Upon consideration, perhaps we should not attempt to purge Cullen of lyrium until we have returned? Even with my assistance, it could yet incapacitate him.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow. “He is not taking the field in his current state, and he will help us formulate a strategy regardless. Beyond that, the timing of his penance is between you three.”

Cullen turned to the other two, his eyebrows raised, entreating. “I have to see this through.  _ Please.” _

Solas frowned. “I will need a few hours of rest before I can aid you in the prescribed manner.”

Cassandra sighed and nodded. “As will I. It will require a great deal of focus.”

“Go, then,” Leliana ordered. “Return at dawn. We do not have time to waste.”

As the door closed behind them, Leliana turned on Cullen, gesturing to the map. “Agents in Emprise du Lion have reported veteran Red Templars importing caged giants, among other beasts. Suledin Keep is well-fortified, temperatures there are even colder than outside Skyhold, and the surrounding area is seeded with red lyrium. They are likely to be aided by Venatori, while we have lost half our Templars to your  _ mistake.”  _ She leaned in, holding his attention with a steady glare. “So, Commander, what strategy would you suggest for extracting the Inquisitor? _ ” _

Cullen nodded and moved toward the map.

\-----

Cassandra was pacing, alternately shaking her hands and clenching them into fists, while she and Cullen waited for Solas and the Iron Bull to join them in the Inquisitor’s quarters. It felt strange being there with her gone, but it was the location that afforded them the greatest privacy, and Cullen the best place to recover without being seen. He watched the Seeker warily from his perch on the edge of the desk, dressed only in his sleep shirt and trousers.

The door to the stairwell clicked open, finally, and they both looked up to watch as Solas emerged. Cullen looked to the apostate’s empty hands, and then back up at his face, eyebrows raised in questioning at the lack of lyrium potions. The elf merely gazed back impassively.

“Bull should be here shortly,” Cassandra spoke up. “You should lie down, Cullen. Burning the lyrium in a Templar’s blood usually brings them to their knees, and their muscles seize shortly after.”

Moments later, the Iron Bull arrived. Cullen was always a little surprised at how quietly he walked when he wasn’t deliberately drawing attention to himself. He shook his head, a slight smile on his face. There was more to each of them than met the eye.

Bull smiled slightly. “I know you wanted me here in case someone needed to hold you down, but I have a better idea, and I think it will actually make this easier on you.” He held up several lengths of smooth rope.

Cassandra frowned as Solas nodded.

Cullen furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “You want to tie me down?”

Bull nodded. “It makes it easier to let go and just ride out the pain. You don’t really have any better options, in this case, so you may as well go for it.”

“I was trained to withstand pain by meditating on the Chant of Light,” Cullen replied.

“And I was trained to focus on the Tome of Koslun. Definitely do that too, but trust me, this helps.”

“Should we tie him to the bed?” Cassandra asked.

Solas raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak.

“No.” Cullen asserted firmly.

Solas closed his mouth, and nodded, shrugging slightly.

“I’m going to tie you up, and help you lie down on the floor with a pillow and blankets, and then stay at your side to make sure you don’t roll around, okay?” Bull offered, his tone startlingly gentle. Cullen had thought that Bull was angry with him, would relish the opportunity to hold him down while he suffered, frankly.

Cullen closed his eyes and nodded, realizing that Bull understood this choice better than most.

As Solas walked around the room, casting barriers to contain any sound, and prevent intrusions, Bull pulled the ropes through his hands one at a time, sorting them into piles by length, occasionally holding one up to Cullen and nodding or shaking his head. Cassandra stood to one side, mouthing the Chant silently. Cullen just stood where Bull had indicated, waiting for their instructions.

There was a strange peace to it. The decision was made. The rest was out of his hands. Whether he lived or died tonight, whether he pulled through or went mad, it was in the hands of the Maker, and of these few. Perhaps he could not trust them with his heart - he wasn’t certain there was anyone he could trust with his heart anymore, least of all himself. But he would not hesitate to trust these people with his life.

And, in Cassandra’s case, with his soul.

“Ready when you are, Cass,” Bull prompted.

“I am ready as well,” Solas agreed.

Cassandra nodded, taking a deep breath. “Begin.”

Bull put a huge hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “The goal here isn’t to make you uncomfortable, just immobile. You’re going to have a little bit of wiggle room, but not much. If anything is cutting off the feeling anywhere, tell me immediately, okay? Normally I’d give you a watchword, but from what she’s said, that doesn’t apply here. Before I bind you, I need to hear you say what you’re consenting to, big guy.”

Cullen swallowed hard and nodded. “I have asked Cassandra to burn the lyrium from my blood while Solas heals me.”

Bull raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’re sure you don’t want a watchword to pull out of this if it’s too much?”

Cullen held his gaze with an intent stare. “I would rather die.”

Bull shook his head, whistling low. “Alright, here we go.”

He held out a long portion of rope, draping it across one of Cullen’s shoulders, and a second portion of similar length over the other. He let them fall to the floor, front and back, and then pulled out a very long, coiled length and began wrapping Cullen’s body from the top down in linked loops. Cullen looked down at his body with distant amusement, noting that it was the same pattern his mother used to tie up mutton roasts on the holy days.

Cassandra began singing, her voice quiet and clear, nodding to Cullen to join her when he was ready. He immediately recognized _Trials I_.

_ "In the long hours of the night  
When hope has abandoned me,  
I will see the stars and know  
Your Light remains.” _

Cullen sighed, finding himself yearning for the comfort of his own room, and the hole he’d kept in the roof, inspired by that verse. He understood why Cassandra had suggested they use Ember’s quarters, but it felt like adding insult to the injuries already piled upon her. He had  _ so much _ to atone for...

Bull worked steadily, weaving the long lines together along Cullen’s center in the front, and down either side of his spine in the back, inserting thick fingers between rope and cloth here, touching Cullen gently there, checking each knot to make sure nothing was too tight or too loose. He never spoke, but he made eye contact frequently, taking his cue from the brief shake or nod of Cullen’s head.

_ “I have heard the sound  
A song in the stillness,  
The echo of Your voice…” _

Cullen’s eyes widened as he realized that, for the first time in weeks, the background hum of lyrium in his veins had quieted. The only sound in the room was Cassandra’s voice, and, nearer, Bull’s quiet breathing. Cullen knew Solas was behind him somewhere. Until Bull began to gently tip him backwards into his arms, and Solas’s hands came to support his head, he hadn’t realized how close.

“Do you want a gag?” Bull murmured in Cullen’s ear. Cullen shook his head, and finally opened his mouth and closed his eyes to join Cassandra in the chant.

_ “With you as my shield,  
And though I bear scars beyond counting,  
nothing can break me…” _

Cullen choked on the next line, falling out of synch with Cassandra for a moment. _ “...Except your absence.” _

Solas sat cross-legged on the floor with Cullen’s head cradled in his lap, his hands on Cullen’s shoulders, and looked up to Cassandra. “You may begin.”

Cassandra nodded and held out her hands, palms up. Cullen gasped, opening his eyes in shock as every nerve in his body reported his blood burning. Immediately, cooling healing magic flooded his veins, the conflicting sensations creating a numb confusion that made his muscles tense.

He forced himself to repeat the next verse in time with Cassandra through gritted teeth.

_ “When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me  
And the taste of blood fills my mouth, then  
In the pounding of my heart  
I hear the glory of creation.” _

“Relax, big guy,” Bull murmured, placing a large, gentle hand on his bound arm.

_ “You have grieved as I have.  
You, who made worlds out of nothing.  
We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay,  
Comforting each other in our ar _ \- aaaaahhh!”

Cullen caught himself losing the chant, and clamped his mouth shut, letting Cassandra finish the word “art” without him. He took several forceful, deep breaths, whispering the next lines.

_ “Your name is etched into my every step.  
I will not forsake you, even if I forget myself…” _

The fire was overwhelming the water, and Cullen found himself consumed with the flames.

“Andraste’s pyre!” he hissed, flashes of the flaming throne Ember sat in to pass judgement blending with a lifetime of icons of Andraste bound to the stake. The flames in his blood blurred with the flames licking at her skin, glorious red hair falling across blazing eyes, judging him or forgiving him?

The sword of mercy ends all suffering. But no...

_ “I shall endure.  
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.” _

Solas hummed a droning note that seemed to merge and carry Cassandra’s voice. Cullen swallowed hard, clenching around the urge to whimper, and Bull began to knead at his shoulders with strong hands, trying to encourage him to relax into the agony.

_ “You have seen me when no other would recognize my face.” _

Cullen closed his eyes again, feeling the fire spread from his blood to his bones. Sweat beaded on every inch of exposed skin, dripping down from his forehead, soaking through his clothing. He hoped Bull wouldn’t mind having to wash the ropes.

Dimly, it occurred to Cullen that Solas didn’t seem to be struggling with the pace at all. He really didn’t need any lyrium potions.

_ Wasn’t that odd? _

Cullen couldn’t think through the white-hot pain, his vision clouding. He was dizzy, nauseous. He tried to focus on the feel of the chant in his throat, the sound of Cassandra’s voice, anything to prevent him from losing what little supper he had been able to make himself consume the night before in disgrace.

_ "Through blinding mist, I climb…” _

_Noon._ It felt like noon, on the hottest day outside Adamant Fortress, the light blinding, the dry heat exhausting him, overheating his blood. There was still so much to do, so many dangers to face, so many wrongs to right. Would he ever be enough?

_ “I cannot see the path.  
Perhaps there is only abyss.  
Trembling, I step forward…” _

But in a way, in that desert, the heat had also been soothing, his muscles loose and languid after long days in the sun. Cullen slumped into Solas and Bull’s hands, a wave of relief washing over him as the fire didn’t so much recede as shift.

_ “Nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.” _

He wasn’t burning.

He wasn’t  _ in _ the flames.

He  _ was _ the flames.

He opened his eyes again to hold Cassandra’s gaze. She stared at him, sang for him, sang  _ to _ him, even as blazing light poured from her hands. He squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. There was something there, behind her...

_ “I am not alone.  
Even as I stumble on the path…” _

His eyes fell shut, but the light continued, gathering around Cassandra, pouring into him. He gasped, calling out the last lines of the verse in earnest.

_ “With my eyes closed, yet I see  
The Light is here.” _

He was fading, he knew it. Every muscle felt weak, heavy. The heat had dimmed into a steady warmth. He couldn’t feel any of the hands touching his skin. Even the ropes were no longer a cage as Cullen floated, staring at the light gathering behind Cassandra as she sang the final verse.

_ “Draw your last breath, my friends.  
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.  
Rest at the Maker's right hand,  
And be Forgiven.” _


	5. Alike In Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen thought he had nothing left to lose.
> 
> Cullen was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive, I swear!
> 
> Wow, this was a hard chapter to write in a hard-to-write fic! I hope y'all like it well enough!
> 
> Still a couple to go before we return to the main narrative.  
> -E-

Cullen was floating in a pool of warmth and light. His body felt weightless, and his mind felt, for the first time in longer than he could remember, crystal clear. There was no pain, no fear, it was so  _ beautiful _ .

He opened his eyes to the spirit in front of him, and blinked in mild confusion.

“Beauty,” he sighed, resigned. The spirit had followed him for years as a desire demon, haunting him, hunting him, but also maybe protecting him from far worse? Until this moment, all he’d felt about it was disgust, fear, and shame. Just now, there didn’t seem to be room inside him for those feelings. He just felt...tired? How odd. A distant part of his mind wondered why, but most of him just… didn’t. There was nothing to worry about here. No pain, no fear, just Beauty.

“Why are you here, Beauty?” He asked. “I’ve asked you to leave me alone.”

The spirit frowned. “I know. I… I try. But… you are dreaming, and it is beautiful.” Its expression was earnest, entreating. “I can’t not be here. Do you understand?”

Cullen shook his head. “Why me? You’ve followed me for how long? Why?”

The spirit looked confused. “Because you are  _ beautiful _ .”

Cullen huffed, smirking for a moment. “Hardly.”

“But you are! And you were. Before, you shone with such wonder and…” The spirit struggled for words. “You upheld an ideal, and you were proud to be a part of the beauty you saw in it. And then the woman, and she was so beautiful. You wanted her, and I wanted her for you.”

Cullen frowned, his brow furrowed. “But you followed me still at my worst, at my ugliest. You can’t tell me I was still beautiful after Kinloch, after Kirkwall.”

The spirit tilted its head. “You became ashamed of your desire for beauty, and feared her and so feared me. I desired  _ for _ you, but then I began to desire  _ as _ you, and finally I began to desire  _ you _ . Even so, it was not until they took her that I truly changed, and you changed. We grew ugly, covetous, corrupt.” It looked down, frowning, but then looked up again, eyes bright. “But then you changed again! Beauty was restored to you, and then to me. And you see… the… “ The spirit shook its head. “There is beauty in redemption, now, for you, for me, for others.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, giving the spirit a quelling look.

It deflated, bowing its head. “But there is also pain, I know. I see, and you are beautiful even in suffering, and I am drawn to you still. But I do not want to be pain. I try to stay away! But... “ The spirit turned towards the light. “It’s  _ so beautiful _ . And it’s for _ you _ .” It turned back to him, entreating. “We are not the same as we were. You have changed and changed again. I have changed and changed again. We match. I don’t want to go.” It’s face crumpled in dismay. “But I will. I won’t steal your beauty ever again. I can’t. I won’t.” 

Cullen swallowed hard, and turned to look into the light. It was calming. Even closing his eyes, the light penetrated his being, and made him feel more confident.

“I don’t know, Beauty. I need to think about it. Everything I have known tells me that this should not be. But everything I have known has been proven wrong time and again, and I don’t know anymore what is right.”

Beauty nodded, a slight smile on its luminous face. “There is another here you must meet,” it said, gesturing to the light. Cullen turned to the light again, raising his eyebrows.

The light began to form a shape, resolving into a human figure, still glowing, but no longer blindingly bright.

“Cullen, meet Faith,” Beauty bowed one last time, and disappeared.

\-----

Cullen awoke with a gasp, his eyes flying open suddenly. He was resting on Ember’s sofa, no longer bound in ropes. Solas sat cross-legged beside the couch, one hand on his shoulder, pouring a gentle trickle of healing into him, the other turning the pages of a book. He looked up upon hearing Cullen’s gasp, raising an eyebrow, but did not immediately speak.

Cassandra appeared above him from the other side of the couch. Her expression was weary, worried. “How do you feel?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“I feel… very well, actually,” Cullen replied in wonder. Cassandra’s brow furrowed, and she looked to Solas.

Solas nodded calmly. “He does seem to be quite well, Seeker. Healthier than I can account for, in fact. I have my suspicions, but perhaps we should first allow him to tell us what he experienced from his own perspective?”

Cassandra turned back to Cullen, offering him a hand to sit up, and then came around to sit facing him on the sofa, one leg turned, and her arm on the back of the couch. “Tell me everything,” she requested in a quiet but firm voice. Ever the Seeker, Cullen mused.

“There were two spirits. Beauty, the demon Ember redeemed and conscripted to protect the sleeping mages in Skyhold, and a spirit of Faith that-” Cullen looked up at Cassandra’s eyes, hesitating. “A spirit of Faith that follows and protects you, Cassandra.”

She frowned and nodded thoughtfully. Cullen raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d thought she’d react more strongly than that to the thought of being followed by a spirit, even of faith. “You’re not surprised?”

She sighed and leaned back, pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “We knew it was a possibility from what was in the book, and what Lucius said. Ember was going to check on it for me when we had the time. Thank you for the confirmation, Cullen.”

He frowns. “I’m not sure you should trust my word on it. It was just a fever dream. Beauty was trying to tell me that it couldn’t leave me alone because I’m too...” He clamped his mouth shut, blushing, and then shrugged, embarrassed. “It didn’t make sense. It’s probably nothing.”

“No, Commander,” Solas spoke up beside him. “It was not nothing. Not at all. I believe it was the presence of those spirits that restored you to health beyond what my own healing could do for you.”

Cullen shifted uncomfortably, looking from Solas to Cassandra. They were both taking him so seriously. He didn’t deserve this kind of attention from them, or from benevolent spirits. And yet, he did indeed feel much better than he did before they began, much less during. And Solas hadn’t even used any lyrium potions.

Come to think of it, Ember had said Solas never used them in the field either, and she rarely did herself. It made sense - they were both apostates, where would they have gotten lyrium potions before they joined the Inquisition? But Solas didn’t struggle at all to heal him continuously. The only healers he had ever known who could do what Solas seemed to have done were spirit healers, whose healing abilities were augmented by Faith or Compassion, or, in one notable case, Justice. He knew Solas was less wary of spirits than most, but as far as he knew, Solas wasn’t a spirit healer. They’d been looking for a proper instructor for Ember without luck. If Solas could have been teaching her, surely he’d have offered by now.

Cullen shook his head, realizing that the two had been watching him with concern while he sat silently ruminating. “My apologies. I… don’t believe we should put too much stock in my experience. It was painful and I passed out. That’s not exactly a reliable state of mind.”

Cassandra nodded slowly, her face a mask of concern. Solas merely smiled slightly, raising an eyebrow, and let it go. So much the better. Cullen still believed in the value of faith, but he didn’t have much of it himself just now.

\-----

The hills of Emprise du Lion glowed redder than blood against the snow. Cullen surveyed the area from the flat of the frozen river with dismay. There was no way that amount of red lyrium wouldn’t incapacitate the Inquisitor. He cursed under his breath - that traitor, Jared, for misleading them, and himself for so willingly playing the fool.

Cassandra put one gauntleted hand on his shoulder, metal lacing through ragged fur. “You had reason to trust him. We all did. I should have sought the truth of the matter, but I was too busy pursuing Lucius’s betrayal to notice one far closer to home.”

“This was my responsibility, Cass. I failed. Leliana was right, I don’t deserve to be here.”

She shook her head. “We need you, Cullen. When Leliana calms down, she will see reason again. She persuaded us to give Ember a chance when we believed she had killed the Divine. She will remember that you acted only in good faith.”

He turned to look her in the eye. “Did I, though?” He frowned, shaking his head, and pulled forward, not wanting to see her pity or disapproval, or worse, her faith in him. They didn’t have time to waste on his navel-gazing.

\-----

They split into two groups going up the hill. Cassandra and Cullen led a group of soldiers and scouts with a few agents, Solas, and Fiona. Leliana had the Iron Bull helping her with a contingent of her agents, a few scouts, Dorian, and Vivienne. The soldiers would head straight along the main path, taking out any encampments along the way, sweeping the mines, and confronting the Red Templars head-on. Leliana’s crew would find their own way through, hopefully eliminating any reinforcements or unexpected obstacles in the process.

Cullen kicked at the remains of a fire burnt out days ago. There was only one tent left, Inquisition issue, but bare splotches in the old snow showed that there had been several more. The one tent was occupied by Knight-Lieutenant Serin Abrahas, his cold body showing signs of both poison and red lyrium infection. Cullen swallowed hard as the agent closed the older man’s eyes and took a moment to clean his face of his stomach’s last attempt to purge what killed him. They would never know if the veteran Templar had killed himself upon realizing he was infected with red lyrium, or if Jared had poisoned him when he resisted the turncoat’s persuasions.

Cullen growled low in his throat and stood for a moment, eyes closed against the rage that suddenly flooded his body. This was never only about him. Jared’s betrayal had already cost them more than they could ever account for, but this was the first body he could absolutely assign to his mistake.

“Rest at the Maker’s side, Serin,” he whispered, and then turned to the troops. “We’ll give him a proper pyre on the way back out. For now, the snow will keep him. Let’s go.”

\-----

The mines were crawling with Red Templars. Cullen took a visceral satisfaction in each grotesque mockery of the Order he ran through. Cassandra’s cries reached him from time to time, triumphant and righteous. He smiled, a baring of teeth, whenever he heard her take out another opponent in her rage.

His soldiers were organized, skilled, systematic, each wearing a mask across their nose and mouth to reduce the risk of infection. By the time they were through, the grounds of the lyrium mines were as red with blood as with their blighted crop. Cullen looked back over the labyrinth of trenches with grim satisfaction.

Later, the soldiers would stay to burn out these mines, and clear out the village, relocating the survivors to better homes. This land was as blighted as the Western Approach. It would take decades to recover, at a hopeful guess, and that was assuming red lyrium behaved similarly to the blight alone once it was stopped from actively growing.

_ If _ it could truly be stopped from growing.

If not, the south was lost.

Cullen shook his head, clearing the thought from his mind. He could not afford to be dragged down into fatalism. There were more immediate concerns.

\-----

When they reached the gates, Jared was waiting for them, just inside, leaning on one of the pillars with a smug expression on his ruddy face. Cullen could see the beginnings of red lyrium poisoning in his body, in his eyes.

Jared taunted them through the bars with snide laughter. “Oh, of  _ course _ . I told them you would come,  _ Knight- _ Commander. So fucking righteous, of course you would come in person to save your precious Inquisitor.” He shook his head, smirking. “I almost had you, you stubborn bastard.”

“You will never have me, Jared,” Cullen snarled. Cassandra placed a quelling hand on his arm, her eyes never leaving Jared’s mocking gaze.

“Oh, but I did!” He laughed, putting a wrist to his forehead. “Poor, desperate Commander! So in love! You must be strong for the Inquisitor, right, Rutherford? Lyrium was the only way.”

Cullen scowled in confusion. “That was your assignment? Get me back on lyrium? They didn’t even know I had stopped.”

Jared sneered. “Of course not, you idiot. I was supposed to slip you red lyrium, bring you to us. Why they thought you were worth so much effort, I’ll never know, but unlike some people, I don’t question my betters. It should have been easy, but no, you had to be noble. The virtuous Commander of the Inquisition, running away from his dirty Templar past. You think you’re better than us?” He snarled, gripping the bars, his eyes glowing red.

But the glow dulled, and he pulled back, feigning a casual attitude. “And when I finally convinced you to act like the Templar you are, the Templar you will always be? You kept your supply separate.”

Jared slammed a hand against the gate, making a dissonant clang. “What makes you so fucking special, Rutherford? Why do you get to swan around like your past is nothing while the rest of us rot on the chain the Chantry can’t even be bothered to hold up their end of anymore?”

Cullen watched, too angry, too  _ disciplined,  _ to flinch at a lieutenant's railing. A blue blur appeared behind Jared, and before he could turn, slender elven fingers wrapped around his chin and temple, twisting with wrenching force. Jared slumped unceremoniously to the ground with a clatter of plate armor. Solas looked up at Cullen through the bars, and nodded silently.

Cullen blinked, too focused to be truly startled, and nodded back as the apostate unbarred the gates. He wondered for a moment how Solas managed to do that, but dismissed the thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, and right now it didn’t matter.

\-----

Cullen held a hand out behind him, gesturing for the soldiers to proceed with quiet caution, spreading out in pairs to sweep the perimeter of the immediate area without losing sight of each other. The outer yard appeared undefended, and there were no signs Leliana’s crew had already gone through. Rather, the Red Templars had chosen to leave the space open, and Cullen was profoundly uncomfortable not knowing why.

The scouts swept the area for traps. The mages searched for enchantments. Cullen scanned for tactical advantages, but none of the places he would have stationed archers or mages seemed occupied.

“Such violence, friends. If you wanted my attention so badly, you could simply have asked.”

Cullen turned, blinking and scowling. That man hadn’t been standing anywhere near there before, where had he come from? He wasn’t wearing armor, or insignia. Mousy brown hair and pale skin made his age ambiguous, but Cullen hazarded a guess that the stranger wasn’t much older than himself.

“Who are you?” Cassandra demanded.

The man smirked, and gestured to the elf mages. “Surely someone here knows. Anyone?” He looked at Solas, raising an eyebrow, but the apostate simply glared.

Cullen glanced at him. “Solas?”

“That is a spirit of desire, Commander. A very old and powerful one, if I am not mistaken.”

“Tsk. I prefer ‘choice spirit’,” the man disdained, looking at the nails on one hand. “Call me Imshael, if you like.”

Cassandra hissed, raising her sword. Cullen raised both eyebrows, looking at her. Her eyes were hard, and she wouldn’t take them off the stranger. “‘Imshael’ is the name of a Forbidden One. One of a few very  _ dangerous _ , ancient spirits who have evaded the Seekers for ages.”

Solas shook his head slightly at the Seeker’s instinct to violence. Cullen noted this and placed a quelling hand on her arm.

“Seeker, Templar, Inquisition,” Imshael waved a hand dismissively. “It’s no difference to me. I am only your enemy if you choose such. Trust me, you don’t want me for an enemy.” He looked to Solas, smiling. “But you, you’re a reasonable man, yes? Not so inclined to jump straight to killing a spirit just for existing. I can help you.”

“I very much doubt that.” Solas shook his head, his expression neutral but his posture stiff.

Cullen scowled. “We should not humor a demon.”

Solas shrugged, feigning a casual affect. “There is little harm in simply listening. Trust, however, must be earned, and we do not have time for that. This spirit cannot help us now.”

“No?” Imshael smirked. “You’re entirely certain of that? I know exactly where she is, what they’ve done to her, what she needs. You don’t think that’s useful to you?”

Solas’ nostrils flared, as he glared at the spirit, gripping his staff with increasingly pale knuckles, but he said nothing.

The spirit shrugged. “ _ Ma nuvenin, Hahren. _ It’s your loss.” He turned his gaze to Cullen. “After all, if  _ you _ save her, it could sway her vulnerable heart.” His smile was slow, sly. “In fact, I dare say I could even  _ guarantee _ it. Her dashing hero, so strong, so handsome, how could she resist? Isn’t that what you want, Commander? I can help you, just say the word.”

Cullen walked slowly towards the demon, seething. Cassandra called out his name, but he ignored her. When he thought about what those… those  _ monsters _ may have done to Ember, might be doing to her even now, while he wasted time with this  _ demon _ , Cullen saw red that had nothing to do with the lyrium permeating the land. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

_ He _ would never be enough. Not for her.

“And what, exactly, is in it for you?” He demanded, his voice low so the others would not hear.

“With an army at the door and assassins seeping through the cracks? It’s simple, Commander. All I want is my freedom, the same as anyone else. Freedom to  _ choose. _ You let me go, you get the girl, everyone lives happily ever after.” He smirked again, one eyebrow raised. “Well, not  _ everyone _ , but who’s counting?”

“Alright, here’s my choice,” Cullen gritted out through clenched teeth, slamming an annulment down around him as he ran the creature through. “I  _ choose _ not to consort with  _ demons _ .”

He let the spirit slide off his blade, dropping the annulment as he watched the body burn away into wisps, his breath heaving with effort and shock. He hadn’t honestly been sure that would work. Still, Ember had said that he purged her mana without any apparent difficulty after months of abstaining from lyrium. Faith had said his abilities were his own, Maker-bestowed, just as all talents are, that all he needed was some faith in himself.  _ Not lyrium. _

While in Faith’s presence it was all but impossible not to believe it, but no sooner had he awakened than he began to doubt himself and his experiences. He shook himself, taking a deep breath, and looked back to Cassandra and Solas.

The other man was frowning. “Was that entirely necessary?” He asked, his tone milder than his posture implied.

“My apologies. I tried to confine the annulment to the demon,” Cullen started, but Solas shook his head and gestured to the pile of singed clothing on the ground. Cullen tilted his head. “You’re upset with me for killing the demon? Solas, I know you have a greater appreciation for spirits but-”

“But I would have killed it myself if you hadn’t,” Leliana interrupted, stepping out from the shadows along with several of her agents. “Imshael has been wreaking havoc across Orlais since before the Circles rebelled. Cassandra and I would have tracked it down long since if bigger problems hadn’t arisen.” She glared at Cullen and then smirked at the pile of clothes. “I don’t like unfinished business.”

Only discipline prevented Cullen from wincing at the Spymistress’ scorn. Cassandra might hope she’d be forgiving, but Cullen had no such illusions. He looked to Solas, mostly to distract himself, to find the apostate huffing in dissatisfaction at Leliana’s answers.

Cullen pulled his weary body up to his full height, looking around at his soldiers and the few of Leliana’s agents who had shown themselves. “Have you found a way in yet?”

Leliana’s smile was grim, predatory. “We have.”

\-----

The twisting path through the keep revealed more dead bodies than anything else. Leliana's section had been as vicious and thorough as her reputation implied. The soldiers and agents took out a couple of red lyrium corrupted giants, with the mages' help. The corrupted mabari broke Cullen's heart, but he put them to rest all the faster for it.

The troops accompanying them steadily dwindled as they took up stations around the keep. By the time they reached the upper floors, only the inner circle remained - Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, Bull, Solas, Dorian, Vivienne, and Fiona.

Every room they checked and found empty of all but assassinated Templars, Cullen's heart sank a little with dread. Cassandra gave him several worried looks as they walked, hearing his resigned sighs, but said nothing. Solas, he noticed, seemed to have hardened his expression into an impassive mask, not so much as twitching with each door they opened.

"She has to be here somewhere," Cullen muttered to himself, 

Cassandra placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "If they have taken her elsewhere, we will not rest until we have found her."

Cole appeared ahead of them in the passage, his eyes darting back and forth nervously. " _Twisting, trailing, too many, too few. She's not here. Where is she,_ ** _where is she?_** Come."

Bull took point, grumbling at the spirit. "Shit, kid, where have you been?"

"Killing Templars," Cole replied. "It wasn't enough, but at least they're not red."

"I'm sure you did what you could, kid," Bull reassured him.

The door to the highest intact room was bolted shut with several locks. Leliana moved immediately to pick them, but Cole just walked up, tapped each of them, and pulled them open. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. " _ Look but don't touch. _ "

Cullen resisted the urge to shove the others away and rush into the room ahead of them. Leliana's hiss reached his ears, followed by a confused shout from Varric as he greeted Cassandra, Bull, and Cole with relief. Then the room went silent.

Frowning, Cullen caught up to the others, with Solas close behind him. He could see familiar hands bound to a chair, but the Iron Bull's hulking body blocked the rest of his view, as the Qunari skillfully unbound her limbs. It was obvious from the way her limbs moved that she was unconscious.

Solas rushed around Bull to Ember's side, his hands already glowing with healing magic, only to flicker out as a stream of distressed muttering flowed from his lips. "No. No no no no no..."

Cullen shook his head, noticing belatedly that his breathing had quickened, and moved around the others to try to get a clearer view. Then Bull backed away, and Cullen saw what they were all reacting to.

Inquisitor Ember's unconscious body was splayed limp in an armchair, her face blank, with purple powder smeared across her nose and lips. Dried blood flaked away from the sunburst branded into her forehead.

"Maker, no." Cullen sank to his knees, his mind aflame with fear and despair and self-recrimination. He watched as Solas carefully wiped the powder from her face and washed the blood from her forehead. The other man examined her for further injuries, healing each as he found it, touching her gently with careful fingertips. His expression was once again blank, but his hands were shaking, and Cole stood behind him with a hand on his shoulder, murmuring.

It wasn't until Cassandra came up behind him that Cullen noticed the tears streaming down his own face.

"It can be reversed," she reminded him with a determined voice. Cullen nodded absently, barely hearing the rest of what she said, but letting her pull him back up to his feet.

The others were tending to Varric's injuries, and searching the room for further evidence.

"We have the keep now," Leliana asserted in a grim voice. "Find them beds that aren't dusted with red lyrium."

The Iron Bull carefully lifted the Inquisitor out of her chair and followed Cole out of the room, with Solas directly behind him.

Cullen closed his eyes, shaking his head. How he had ever convinced himself that the elven mage was only leading Ember on, he wasn't sure. The man kept his emotions tightly controlled, but even Cullen could see how singular his focus on her well-being had become.

"You should rest." Cassandra guided Cullen out the door and down the hallway. "Your troops have their orders. Leliana and I will determine our next steps."

All he could do was nod, numbly, and go where she bid him.

He'd been a fool, a thousand times over, and it had cost them  _ everything _ .


	6. Echo of Your Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition seeks a solution. Outsiders may have the answers. They can only hope.

It was well after dark when Cullen awoke again. He startled awake and sat up, trying to get his bearings in the nearly pitch-black room, when he remembered where he was. Voices led him down to a common room where Cassandra, Solas, and the Iron Bull were debriefing with Varric.

The Iron Bull frowned to Cassandra as Cullen approached and settled down on a bench across from him. “I should have stepped up when I saw how bad she was doing. I knew we needed reinforcements, but dammit, the Boss was so insistent about those prisoners.”

“It’s not your fault, Bull,” Cassandra assured him, but he just shook his head and gestured to Varric.

Varric sighed and nodded, resuming his story. “I knew we were screwed when a whole group of Templars came in. Up until then, it had only been one, maybe two. One of them had a long metal seal in his hand. The end was glowing with normal blue lyrium. He gestured, and one of his fellows pulled the blindfold off the Inquisitor, waking her up out of a fitful sleep.” Varric shook his head, smiling wistfully. “She was actually more lucid than I'd seen her in days, certainly more lucid than she'd been in the mines. Of course, she immediately demanded answers.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure I want to know why she's practiced at talking through gags. ”

“Did they give any answers?” Cassandra pressed.

Varric shook his head. “Just the usual sycophantic bullshit. ‘You’re a mistake.’ ‘Corypheus will be a god.’ ‘He promised us power and shiny toys.’ You get the idea. Then they started chanting. She didn’t seem all that worried until she figured out what they were going to do. Then she started to panic. I tried to tell her, ‘Pipes, Use the anchor! Throw them in the fade, or get yourself out of here, anything!’ But my throat was still wrecked from being strangled with Bianca’s strap.”

He paused to run a careful hand across the side of his bruised throat, and then shrugged. “Still, she seemed to be trying to muster enough power through the remains of the magebane. The mark was crackling when they pressed the brand into her forehead.”

Cullen frowned. He’d seen the mark on her forehead when they arrived. It was bloody, meaning the Red Templars had either used more lyrium than necessary, or pressed much harder with the brand than necessary. Either that, or someone had gotten creative. He clenched his fists in his lap under the table, biting the side of his cheek to stay focused.

Varric leaned forward on his elbows, putting his head in his hands. “Her eyes glossed over and she passed out in her chair. The anchor went completely quiet. I couldn’t even see the green line across her palm anymore.”

Bull growled low in his throat, but didn’t move a muscle. Cullen glanced at Solas, but his face was impassive. Until he’d seen Solas’ reaction to finding Ember rendered Tranquil the day before, he’d thought Solas had no particularly strong feelings towards her, and might even be deliberately manipulating her. Here again, he seemed as calm as ever. How did the elf keep such tight control over his emotions? Cullen always felt like his heart was on his sleeve for everyone to see.

At Cassandra’s nod, Varric resumed his narrative, leaning back in his chair. “Of course, the idiots turned on each other. ‘You used the wrong lyrium!’, ‘I did not!’, ‘The Elder One will have your head.’ ‘I was following _your_ orders.’” Varric rolled his eyes. “While they were arguing, I got a good look at one I recognised from Kirkwall that I could’ve sworn I’d seen around Skyhold. Kid named ‘Jared’. He caught me looking and blindfolded me.”

“He’s the one who betrayed us to Samson,” Cullen offered quietly.

Varric nodded, giving him a sympathetic look. “So I heard. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Curly. Even the Nightingale didn’t see that one coming.” He laughed wryly, shaking his head. “Jared was an ass, but he wasn’t stupid. Who would expect _anyone_ to buy into red lyrium after seeing what it did to Meredith first hand? I sure didn’t, and I have a lot of experience with being double-crossed.” His smile was bitter, self-mocking. “Anyway, after that, somebody started feeding me water and bread directly once in a while, but they never spoke. At first I resisted, thinking it might have red lyrium in it, but after a while I was just too thirsty to refuse.”

“You do not appear to have any taint or lyrium in your system, Varric,” Solas confirmed, and Cassandra nodded.

Varric held his tankard up towards the apostate. “Thanks for that, Chuckles. This is enough of a nightmare as it is.” He finished off the ale and put the tankard down with more grace than Cullen was expecting. “So, a couple days ago, the Kid showed up and took off my blindfold. He said you guys were on the way, would be here soon, and he untied me, and helped me barricade the door before disappearing again. So I just waited, guarding her body and tending to Bianca, until I heard your voices in the hall. And, well, you know the rest.”

“It was Cole who gave you food, and later fed you,” Solas offered. “Though he did not explain why he left you bound until we were on the way.”

“Probably to keep his cover,” Varric mused. “He’s a smart kid.”

“Your story matches our other reports.” Cassandra added, her face a mask of anxiety. “How do you find the words for it all, Varric? I've needed to describe events in reports, but I have no talent for it.”

“I have a lot of practice telling stories, Seeker,” Varric sighed.

“Making them up, you mean?” She asked, her tone more curious than disapproving.

“Same thing. The difference between facts and truth is in the parts that come to you as you’re telling it.”

Cassandra frowned. “Facts _are_ truth.”

Varric gave her a tired smile. “Ahh, but truth isn’t always factual.”

“That makes no sense!”

Cullen chuckled, it was such a _Cassandra_ objection.

Solas smiled, but said nothing.

Bull laughed. “Sure it does.”

She snorted with mild disgust. “Because you are both spies.”

“Nah. Because truth is what you get from the story. My Tama used to ask me how I thought _Ashkaari_ Koslun would tell me to behave whenever she caught me acting out. It didn’t matter if he’d ever come anywhere near what we were doing. The point was the truth of his teachings.”

Cullen smiled, nodding. “My Mother said similar of Andraste when I was a child, and that I’d never know if the Maker was watching, so I should always be on my best behavior.”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “And do you believe that, Commander?”

“Now?” Cullen took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know. The Chantry tells us that the Maker has abandoned us, but if that’s so, why would anything we do matter to Him?” He sighed and shrugged. “I’m honestly not sure it even matters anymore if He’s watching or not. If He can’t find it in His heart to intervene when we need Him the most, when _she_ needs Him…” He shook his head again, closing his eyes, and then rising from the bench. “I apologize. I should not burden you.”

“You’re not a burden, Cullen,” Cassandra called as he walked away, but he didn’t reply.

In the hallway, he turned to lean his forehead against the cool stone, but it didn’t help the deep, nauseating despair he felt picturing Ember with the sunburst scar on her forehead. He had been present for countless Rites of Tranquility, mostly in Kirkwall, but a couple in Kinloch as well. He had never been comfortable with the Tranquil, but it had never truly struck him how deeply _wrong_ it was to take a person’s emotions from them.

Or perhaps it had, only he had never allowed himself to examine his feelings too closely. Mages, he’d been taught, needed to control their feelings. But Ember had always been openly emotional, expressive, and while very occasionally her magic would crackle at the edges when she was especially joyful or fierce, he had never seen her lose control of it even when she seemed barely in control of her emotions. There didn’t seem to be much correlation at all between how strongly she expressed herself and how tightly she controlled her magic. What possible justification could there be in stealing all that vivacity, that life, from her eyes?

He huffed, refusing to make any louder a sound where they might hear him, when all he wanted to do was scream. Maybe it was a small blessing that her eyes wouldn’t open now - he would never see the flat expression of the Tranquil gazing on his face as though it were no more interesting than a blank piece of parchment. Just the image of it in his mind, of her walking placidly through the halls where she used to saunter or run and jump, or even skip… Cullen pulled back with a groan, forming his hands into fists, and slammed them into the stone wall.

In moments, Solas stood beside him, wrapping his bruised knuckles and torn skin in slender, glowing fingers. He didn’t say a word, he simply healed Cullen’s hands, and turned to walk away.

As Cullen stared at the other man’s back, mouth hanging slightly open as he searched for the words to address him, Solas turned, looking him in the eyes, and then down at his hands.

“Have a care for yourself, Commander.” His voice was quiet, strained. “You are no use to her dead.”

Cullen shook his head, bewildered, as the apostate walked away. Then the Iron Bull’s great hand settled on his shoulder.

“Come on, big guy. I have a better use for those fists.”

\-----

The hours alternately flew by and crawled. Leliana disappeared almost immediately. Two days later, a trusted noble ally’s carriage arrived, so they could have the Herald’s body carried privately back to Skyhold. The mages and Varric rode in the carriage with her, to ensure her safety. Solas had taken to feeding her a mixture of herbs, honey, and whey in water a few drops at a time. The other officers accompanied the carriage on mounts while a few agents stayed behind to coordinate the management of Suledin Keep with the Inquisition’s Orlesian allies. The rest of the agents, scouts, and soldiers returned down the hill to clean up, recover bodies, and help any refugees who hadn’t run away yet.

No sooner did they return to Skyhold than Varric settled into his usual writing of letters. He assured the council that he had sent for Hawke to return immediately. If nothing else, he figured they could use an extra hero or two.

Cullen quickly found himself rendered irrelevant to the cause of curing the Inquisitor. Nothing he knew from his time as a Templar could help, and nothing about managing troops for the Inquisition was of any use. Two days after they returned, Cassandra strode into his office with several heavy books in her arms and an aggravated expression on her face.

She unceremoniously dropped the books on his desk and settled into his spare chair with a suffering sigh. He quietly observed the Eye of Truth on the largest book, and raised both eyebrows to the Seeker.

“There must be an answer. We can not give up hope. But if there is, I am not finding it. Nothing in any of the records I can find between the Seekers and Templars has any information about a Rite of Tranquility rendering the mage unconscious. It is unprecedented.”

Cullen frowned. “Perhaps it has something to do with the anchor. Have you discussed it with Solas? He seems to understand fade magic better than most.”

She scowled. “I have, but he knows almost nothing about the Rite, and wishes not to be distracted from searching the fade for her spirit companions.”

“What about young Guerrin?”

“Connor has been helping me, yes. He is researching the materials collected by mages, but has not found anything yet either. This makes no sense! How am I supposed to fix this, Cullen?”

Cullen shook his head. “Why do you consider it your personal responsibility to fix it? Don’t we all share that burden?”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair and looking to the side. “The Rite was created by the Seekers. I cannot help but feel responsible.”

“But you know how to reverse it now. Does it matter why she’s different? Shouldn’t we just bring her out of it?”

“I don’t know. Cole says her spirit has fled her body, but that is not what the Rite of Tranquility usually does. If her response is unusual, or if the Red Templars changed the Rite, we have no idea what might happen. Solas and Cole both agree that we must wait until we have found at least her companion spirits in the fade.”

“And you agree?”

“I do not. But she would trust them, and I am impatient. What if I am wrong, and it harms her? What if it makes her Tranquility permanent? I do not believe that is a risk I can inflict on her without at least a consensus. Also...” She frowned, and huffed.

Cullen pulled his hands through his hair, gripping slightly at the back. What little hope got him through the day rested in the knowledge that Tranquility was reversible. If it was permanent… He shook his head and looked up at her. “Also?”

“I do not know how to contact the spirit of faith you saw, but even if I did, Ember does not share our faith. What if it refused to help her?” Cassandra’s eyes widened seeing his dismay, and she frowned with worry. “I’m sorry, Cullen, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. I know how you… well...” She started to rise from her chair and reach for the books.

“No!” Cullen put his hand on hers, holding the books down. “No, Cassandra, thank you for sharing this with me. Listening is the least I can do, and right now I have nothing more to offer.”

She pulled her hand loose, turning it over to grip his before letting go and sitting back down. “For the moment, I’m not sure what any of us can do. It seems we are waiting on Solas.”

Cullen’s smile was strained. “He cares for her a great deal. I’m sure he will do whatever he can.”

“I’m sure he is,” Cassandra nodded, then scowled, grunting quietly. “But I hate waiting.”

\-----

“I cannot find them.” Solas’ gaze was steady as he regarded Cullen and the others in the war room. Cullen, Cassandra, and Josephine had gathered along with several of the Inquisitor’s inner circle: Solas, Cole, the Iron Bull, Dorian, and Varric. Wherever Leliana had gone when she had left Suledin Keep, she had not yet resurfaced in Skyhold, though they received several coded missives via ravens and agents returning from the field.

“Not even Beauty?” Cullen prompted, frowning.

“Beauty is easily found, but Beauty is not one of Ember’s entourage. I can not find any of the spirits who accompany her personally everywhere she goes.”

“How many are there?” Josephine asked. Cullen frowned, realizing that she had not been present for their other conversations on this topic. He briefly questioned whether Ember would have wanted her there, but shook his head. Now was not the time to worry. If their Ambassador was going to control the flow of official information and rumors out of the Inquisition, she would need to know what she might be dealing with.

“Four, yes?” Cullen recited, his brow furrowed. “I remember a flying wolf. There are also a cat, a rabbit, and a woman.”

“Correct,” Solas nodded with a slight smile. “The woman, Adele, is who I most hoped to consult, but I can not find any sign of her or the animal companions. The only sign of Ember’s own spirit that I can find is the echo of her singing.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. “Her singing?”

Solas shrugged and tilted his head. “It is not entirely uncommon that performance attracts the attention of spirits who record its beauty, but this seems different. I am not entirely certain why, but the impression of her singing has imprinted in the foundations of Skyhold, as well as a scattering of places in the fade. I have not yet determined a pattern, beyond certain specific instances, such as her singing each night along the road from Haven.”

“Is she attracting spirits? Or, well, more of them, anyway?” Cullen asked. Before that would have worried him no end, but just now that seemed like a source of hope. If she attracted spirits, perhaps Solas could follow their trail to her?

Solas shook his head. “The anchor does attract spirits, yes, but this is not that. Something about her singing seems to resonate with the lyrium veins that run through this mountain range.”

The Iron Bull hummed. “Might explain why she’s so affected by the red stuff?”

“It may indeed,” Solas nodded. “I have never seen her without the anchor, so it is difficult to discern what is her own nature and what is the result of her magic blending with the anchor. Nothing I have been able to learn of the anchor itself explains this, however.”

“She is easier to look at when she’s not there.” Cole murmured. “The anchor is bright, blinding. Without it I can see her clearly, but she isn’t there to see.”

“What do you see, then?” Cullen asked, careful not to disturb the strange spirit boy. He might discern what they could not. Cullen would take any hope he could find.

Cole looked up, the brim of his hat finally tilting back enough to reveal his wan face. “It’s _there_ , but she isn’t. I don’t know why. I’ve never tried it, so I don’t know how.”

“Try again, Kid,” Varric prodded him, gently. “Use more words.”

Cole’s face wrenched into a grimace as he stared at the ceiling. “Her body. It’s... not a person, but it’s still _there_ .” He shook his head, closing his eyes in frustration. “Less than a person, more than a thing. _Dreaming is just the first step._ She didn’t know she was really here yet when it happened. The anchor changed everything.”

Cullen looked from Cole to Varric to Solas, hoping the helpless feeling flooding his chest didn’t show on his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what he’s trying to say.”

Varric shook his head, holding his hands up. “I’m as lost as you are Curly. Did it make sense to you, Chuckles?”

Solas tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in thought. “I cannot be certain, but it does give me some thoughts as to how I might seek further.” He shook his head, his eyes suddenly focusing on them. “I should return to my search as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more harm may be done.”

“Agreed,” Cassandra frowned. “I can attempt to lift the Tranquility as soon as you believe it is safe. I still think we should not wait.”

Solas and Dorian both shook their heads. Dorian spoke up. “If she isn’t nearby to re-inhabit her body, I’m afraid I agree with Solas that it is safer not to make her body available to other spirits. I could shield her, but that effort would be a waste when the mark of Tranquility is so effective already.”

Cassandra huffed in frustration, but nodded, gesturing for Solas to return to his efforts. Cole followed him out, muttering softly as he nodded his head.

Cullen sighed, crossing his arms. “I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“So do I, big guy,” Bull growled in frustration.

“I am certain we all wish to help,” Josephine added. Her tone was crisp and melodic - her usual professional mask. But Cullen could see the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights spent fretting over a world grown restless in the Inquisitor’s absence. “For now, I could use your help, Master Tethras. There are many letters to answer, and I believe your skills in crafting a suitable narrative may be of use.”

Varric sighed, pulling up from where he was leaning against the wall, and nodding as she turned to leave. “Sure thing, Ruffles. I’ll meet you in your office in half an hour.”

Cullen hid a small smile seeing Bull place a heavy hand on Dorian’s shoulder as the two moved to quietly follow the dwarf from the room. He hoped the mage and Tal-Vashoth found comfort in each other, despite Dorian’s apparent reluctance to acknowledge their relationship in public. Cullen didn’t consider himself the most observant person in the world where romance was concerned, but he’d have to be blind not to have noticed the two flirting at every opportunity, and now they seemed to turn to each other almost automatically whenever their focus waned.

Cullen shook his head fondly, and turned to look at the only other person remaining. Cassandra stood straight and still, scowling as she stared at the war map. He leaned in to get a better look at what drew her gaze.

“Has Lake Calenhad offered you insult recently?” Cullen prodded gently.

Cassandra snorted. “Leliana is right. It looks like a bunny.”

Cullen huffed with helpless amusement, only to break out into laughter when Cassandra looked up at him, scowling.

“You are mocking me,” she accused him.

“I’m not! I’m not! I’m sorry!” Cullen gasped. “It’s just, I’ll never not see it anymore!” He doubled over laughing again, feeling slightly out of control, and at the same time relieved to let the tension ebb from his body, even for just the moment.

Cassandra looked away, trying to hide her own smile, only to join him, chuckling. “This is ridiculous. We have work to do.”

Cullen pulled up short, swallowing hard. “We don’t, though. All we can do now is wait.”

“True,” she grunted. “Come, I need a drink, and I hate drinking alone.”

Cullen nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself and then offering her an elbow. She raised an eyebrow at him before taking it. “We live in strange times, Commander.”

“We do, indeed, Seeker.”

\-----

The candle on Cullen’s desk was burning low by the time the quiet knock on his door roused him from his paperwork.

“Enter!” he called, assuming it was likely someone new to the evening watch being timid about checking in during the pass-through.

“Curly, I need a favor,” Varric’s voice was a murmur as he approached the desk.

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up. “What can I do for you?”

“Come down with me to the front gate, and let the usual guards take a breather.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, and shook his head, his lips pulling into a small smirk. “Hawke is back.”

Varric tilted his head, eyebrows raised meaningfully. “And she’s not alone.”

“Do I want to know?”

“If you can’t guess, you’ll see soon enough. Just don’t react too much, no matter what you think, please.”

“What are you doing, Varric?” Cullen sighed.

“What am I ever doing, Curly?” Varric chuckled in that self-deprecating way that he always used to deflect - suspicion, praise, attention to him as a person instead of his stories - anything, really. “I’m taking care of my friends. Pipes needs us. Please, just come with me.”

Cullen nodded and stood up from his chair, reaching for his cloak. The two men walked down to the gates, and Cullen quietly encouraged the guards to relieve themselves. The younger guard looked confused, but the veteran scout gave him a knowing nod and pulled her partner away with her. No doubt Leliana’s agents would still see what happened next, but Cullen privately suspected she already knew.

Four cloaked figures dismounted from tired horses. One carried a _very_ large, familiar two-handed sword, and another an unmistakable bow. The other two had no obvious weapons. As they approached the gate, Varric greeted them quietly. Hawke pulled back her hood, nodding, and gestured. Lyrium-lined hands reached up to reveal Fenris’ grim expression, and bejeweled fingers pulled Isabella’s hood away from her smirking face. She turned and pulled a feathered hat off her horse’s pack and placed it firmly on her head at a stylish angle, grinning. The fourth, tallest figure remained fully cloaked.

“ _Admiral_ Rivaini,” Varric chuckled, “I wasn’t sure you’d grace us with your presence so far from the nearest waters.”

“And miss all this? You’d have to pay me to keep me away, Varric.”

“You mean Hawke isn’t paying you to get you here?”

“She did say there was a good chance the Inquisition might hire us as mercenaries if we played nice with the other children.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows and nodded to Isabella and Fenris. “We may well, at that. We can always use fighters of your calibre.”

She grinned, looking him up and down suggestively. “Well, haven’t you cleaned up nice? I’m happy if I get to keep what I loot off the bodies, but if you want an armada of privateers, you’ll have to pay my captains at the very least.”

“I will discuss it with Ambassador Montilyet in the morning,” Cullen nodded with professional cool, ignoring the pirate’s leering. He was never entirely sure if she meant it, but either way, he wasn’t interested.

“Let’s not linger too long in the gateway,” Varric suggested. “The guards do have a job to do, after all.”

He led them along a wide, indirect route into the basements behind the kitchen and then up through the passage behind the garden, to the war room. Cullen took up the rear, framing their guests between himself and Varric, placing him immediately behind the tall, cloaked figure whose identity he was all but certain of.

“No staff?” he murmured quietly, testing.

Sure enough, a familiar voice replied. “You may have changed, Commander, but most Templars are the same as they’ve ever been.”

“What are you doing here, Anders?” Cullen growled.

“Varric said you needed the best healer in Thedas.”

“You know I can’t let you go now that you’re here. Even if you help us, the Inquisition will have to pass judgement on you.”

“I know.” Anders’ sigh was weary. “Hawke is hoping the Inquisitor will go easy on me if I help save the world again. She thinks a mage might be a kinder judge than the Chantry would have been.”

Cullen huffed. “She may well want to be, but that doesn’t mean our allies will allow it.”

“I know.” He paused, letting the others walk on without them for a moment, and turned to Cullen. His face was weary, lined with deep creases. Dark circles gave his eyes a haunted look. “In all honesty, Knight-Commander, I just want it to be over.”

Cullen hoped the shadows covered his wince. “It’s just Commander, now. I left the Order.”

Anders’ eyes lit up. “You…? Really? What brought the most loyal Templar in Kinloch to his senses?”

Cullen shook his head, keeping his expression professional, and resumed walking, “That is a long story for another time.”

Cassandra and Leliana were waiting for them, the Seeker’s expression creased with worry. “I am still not certain this is a good idea, Leliana, he’s- Champion!” she stopped abruptly as they entered, scanning their faces, still obviously worried.

“Thank you for coming,” Leliana intervened smoothly. “I have assignments for all of you.”

Anders finally pulled back his hood to look Leliana square in the face. “Where is my patient?”

“ _Patience,_ ” she admonished with a smirk. “Seeker Pentaghast and Commander Rutherford will lead you to her shortly. I need them here for a moment yet.”

Cullen nodded sharply, gripping the pommel of his sword. “What do you need?”

“I need you to confirm their assignments. I want them to take three of the Admiral’s ships to the storm coast and clear the dwarven docks of red lyrium and any Red Templars, Venatori, Carta, or Darkspawn they may find there.”

Cullen nodded slowly, glancing at the candle-lit map. “Ships would speed that mission up considerably, yes.” He looked up at Leliana and then Hawke. “Take the Chargers, and sweep inland through to Crestwood and down the Eastern highway to Redcliffe before heading back to Skyhold? I can have bags ready for you first thing in the morning with orders to handle along the way.”

Hawke, Fenris, and Isabella nodded. For once, even the pirate looked serious.

“Excellent,” Leliana chirped with unnerving cheer. “That is all I need, then, Commander, if you and Cassandra would take the healer upstairs, now.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes at the Spymistress’ strange mood, but still nodded his head, and gestured for Cassandra to lead the way. He was as eager as anyone to see what a fresh mind might offer, even if he was more than a little wary of the mind in question.

Cassandra climbed the stairs to the Inquisitor’s suite with firm, resounding steps. “What we show you this evening, you must not speak of to anyone else. Not even Hawke.”

Anders huffed. “Does Varric know?”

“He does.”

“Then Hawke will know.”

“Regardless, _you_ will not speak of it.” Cassandra turned to stare Anders straight in the eyes from the step above him. “I _know_ who you are. The only reason you are still standing is because Varric has convinced Leliana that you can help. If they are correct, it may be worth your life.”

Anders stood very still, his shoulders stiff, holding Cassandra’s gaze. Cullen held his breath, braced to intervene if Anders tried anything. After a moment, Anders’ shoulders slumped, and he nodded, gesturing for her to lead them again.

The door to the Inquisitor’s chambers was not locked. The only people inside were Solas, who sat meditating on the couch by the hearth, and Ember, who still lay unconscious in her bed. At the sound of their footsteps, Solas stirred.

“Seeker, Commander,” he greeted them, and then raised an eyebrow at the stranger. “And you are?”

Anders glanced at Cullen with a questioning look. Cullen closed his eyes briefly, nodding.

“Anders. I’m a spirit healer. Varric sent for me.”

Solas raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. “I see. Yes, a spirit healer could be very valuable at this time.” He gestured to the bed.

Anders walked over, took one look at the Inquisitor’s resting, Tranquil form, and swore under his breath. “Fucking Templars.” His hands clenched into fists at his side as he snarled without turning to look at them. “Why is she still like this? Wasn’t a cure for the Rite discovered? Varric said the Inquisition was better than the Chantry.” 

“We know the cure,” Cassandra interrupted, her voice slightly louder than Cullen was expecting. “We hesitate to use it when it renders mages unstable and her reaction to the Rite is so… unprecedented.”

 _That_ got his attention. Anders turned to look at them, his expression alert. “How so?”

Cullen approached the other man with caution, remembering both strange stories and his own encounters with the Grey Warden abomination. “This is Inquisitor Ember. She was captured by the Red Templars and they performed the Rite of Tranquility on her less than a month ago. For reasons we do not understand, it has rendered her unconscious.”

“Wait, you’re saying the Tranquility _is_ her injury?”

“Just so,” Solas replied as he moved to the far side of the bed to check on Ember’s eyes and mouth.

Anders sat carefully on the side of the bed, and began examining the Inquisitor. “How much healing magic have you used?”

“As much as had any effect,” Solas replied. “It healed her observable injuries. I have been feeding her a few drops of honey, herbs, and whey every few hours, and she yet breathes, but that is all.”

“She just won’t wake up?” Anders frowned. “The only time I’ve seen this wasn’t from Tranquility, it was from a demon trapping the soul. Tranquility should _cure_ that, if it’s good for anything at all.”

“The other possibility we have considered is if the lyrium they used was tainted with traces of red lyrium, and thus the blight,” Cassandra offered.

Anders shook his head. “I sense no blight.” He turned to her. “I want to try something. It’s worked to pull someone out of Tranquility before, if only for a moment, but you have to promise not to interfere.” The expression on his face was determined, but also entreating. He turned to Cullen. “You must have heard the rumors…”

“We know about Justice, if that’s what you’re asking, yes.”

“He… might be able to help. That’s probably why Varric called for me. He was with us that day.”

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath. Ember had always been more trusting of spirits than he liked. She would almost certainly allow whatever it was Anders wanted to try. But Cullen couldn’t say he shared Ember’s naivete, even with his more recent experiences. Still, anything that might help... anything at all.

Cullen nodded, opening his eyes. Anders sighed in relief, and looked to the other two. Solas nodded as well.

Cassandra frowned, turning to Solas. “We have avoided attempting to reverse the Tranquility, yet you agree when he proposes to bring her out of it temporarily?”

“If the effect is temporary, there is little opportunity for any other spirit to interfere,” Solas reasoned, “and this may allow us to determine how she is likely to react to the rite of reversal.”

Cassandra grunted in disgust, but nodded her assent.

Anders closed his eyes. After a few moments, glowing blue cracks began to appear along his form. He opened his eyes again, and they blazed with lyrium-blue light.

 _“What has been done to this woman, Templar?”_ Justice demanded.

Cullen scowled, resisting the urge to reach for his sword. “I am no longer a Templar.”

The spirit glared at him, looking him up and down, and then nodded briefly. _“I see. Your blood no longer sings. But hers…”_ He turned to stare at Ember, his voice tinged with reverence. As he approached, her breath hitched briefly, but that was all. _“It isn’t her blood that sings. The air around her, perhaps? It is comforting. It reminds me of the fade. Who is she?”_

“She is Inquisitor Ember,” Cullen replied.

_“Where is she from?”_

“We do not know,” Cassandra sighed. “She stepped out of the Fade after the Conclave exploded. She has walked bodily in the fade at least twice. Perhaps that is what you sense?”

Justice nodded, and then shook his head. _“She does not wake.”_ He turned on Cassandra, scowling, and the Seeker braced one foot behind her, ready to act if needed. _“This is unjust! Why was she made Tranquil? Did you not trust your own Inquisitor?”_

Solas held up a placating hand. “She was captured by her enemies. They have since been destroyed.”

Justice leaned back, sighing. _“Ah. That is as it should be. But this -”_ He turned back to Ember, frowning. _“- remains wrong. I cannot help you.”_ He shook his head, his expression sorrowful, and the lights faded from Anders’ eyes.

Solas moved smoothly to catch him as he began to collapse. “What were you expecting that would do?” he asked quietly.

“In the past, Justice manifesting in the presence of the Tranquil has roused them from Tranquility,” Anders croaked, as he righted himself. “I don’t understand. Her body is healthy. Nothing is wrong that I can see, not even atrophy.” He looked up to Cassandra and Cullen, his expression entreating. “I will help ensure that she stays healthy until a solution is found, and I will do anything I can to help find a solution, but nothing I already know can help you.”

\-----

Cullen climbed the stairs to the Inquisitor’s chambers, silently grouching about her being placed up so many flights of stairs. She’d complained herself at first, too, until she’d realized that it gave her the freedom to sing her devotions without worrying who could hear the words. Now it was necessary, to give them the freedom to discuss her condition without unauthorized personnel being privy to it.

Like Solas, Anders had taken to staying in her rooms nearly full time. It was just as well, as he couldn’t have the freedom of the keep anyway. The two mages did not seem entirely comfortable with each other. Or perhaps it was Cullen they were uncomfortable with, as every time he entered the suite, they were either sitting in awkward silence, or Anders was giving Solas an exasperated look, while the elf explained something with his usual impassive expression. Unless they were discussing Ember’s condition, in which case they seemed to get along very well.

She hadn’t moved. The presence of spirits had no discernible effect. Her heartbeat was steady, her blood was clean, her body was strong and healthy. Yet her spirit remained absent.

Cullen found himself wondering how a soul could so completely abandon its body without the body dying. The only way he could think of was if the soul didn’t belong to the body in the first place. He’d worried before that Ember might be possessed, might have been possessed all along. It had never occurred to him that the person he knew might not be the human being before him at all. Had he fallen in love with a demon? But no, her behavior was not demonic, nor was the body distorted in any way. Not even in the ways Justice distorted Anders’ body at times, much less in the manner of a demon. A spirit then?

Maybe it made sense that she and Solas seemed to be in love. The apostate was much more tolerant of spirits than Cullen could bring himself to be. He was the first to suggest that Cole should be allowed to stay, and to determine the boy’s true nature. If Ember was a spirit, Solas was probably better for her than Cullen.

Whose body had she taken? Someone who was killed at the conclave? Or did their spirits merge somehow, blending more seamlessly than Justice and Anders seemed to? It might explain why her memories seemed so otherworldly, at least.

What was Ember a spirit _of_ , then? Faith? She didn’t really resemble the spirit of Faith he had met who followed Cassandra. Of course, Ember was not Andrastean. Perhaps another sort of faith would seem different? Perhaps. She was very supportive of faith in others, no matter what kind, but what she really brought them was _hope_.

Cullen shook his head to clear his thoughts as he reached the hearth in her chamber, looking up and around. Anders was asleep in the cot next to her bed.

“Solas?” Cullen called out quietly, not seeing him anywhere.

“Here.” The low voice called from above. Confused, Cullen looked up to find Solas leaning on the banister of the loft above Ember’s storeroom.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, smirking self-consciously at being so easily startled. “What are you doing up there?” 

Solas merely beckoned, gesturing to the storeroom, where a curtain had been pulled away to reveal a stepladder.

Cullen climbed the ladder to find Solas sitting in the center of a set of mismatched tables of various sizes and heights. One was simply a stump. Another was clearly an Orlesian bedside table that had one leg repaired. Each was covered in a collection of figurines, stones, and drawings, with two containers at the center, one filled with water, the other with a candle. He shook his head. “What is all this?”

“These are the shrines she keeps to honor her gods and loved ones.” Solas gestured to the end of the loft, where a set of shelves held a great many drawings and a few large jars, but only a handful of figurines, and no cups or candles. “Those drawings represent her family members.”

“She told me about her siblings once.” Cullen nodded. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been wondering, Solas. Can a spirit have a family, friends, memories?”

“It depends. A spirit that takes on the form of one who has passed away might carry the memories of that form. That is what Cole is. The boy he remembers being was a mage who did not wish to be a mage. Cole became what the boy wished to be.”

“Is that what Ember is, then? A spirit who has taken on someone else’s memories and body?”

“She has taken no one else’s body. If she is a spirit, then she is like Cole, and manifested her own body to suit the image she expected to have.”

“Whose memories does she have, then?”

Solas tilted his head, his lips pulled up to one side in a wry smile. “Presumably, the memories of a woman somewhere who called herself ‘Ember’. That is not especially helpful to us right now, I know. When she awakens, perhaps we can ask her what she believes herself to be.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Until we locate her in spirit, the point is moot.”

Cullen frowned. “Any news?”

For once, the elf allowed a pained expression to reach his face. “None. I came up here in the hopes that her shrines might aid me in reaching her companion spirits, or perhaps those she knows as gods. None respond.”

“Do any gods respond to our calls?” Cullen huffed. “The Maker doesn’t. I’m told the Dalish believe theirs no longer respond either.”

Solas shrugged. “The Skywatcher believes the Lady of the Skies communicates with his people frequently, through omens. Whatever Ember expected from her gods, I know only that she was frustrated with their silence since she arrived here. I had thought perhaps the anchor interfered.” He shook his head. “Whatever they are, she could no longer reach them, and it seems neither can I.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.” Cullen sighed, kneeling on the floor in front of the shelves displaying drawings of her family and friends. “If her gods were willing to take her away from all of these people she loved, to send her to strangers like us, to face demons and monsters like Corypheus, maybe they don’t deserve her worship.”

Solas chuckled quietly. “I am the wrong person to ask. I have yet to hear of _any_ god who _deserves_ to be worshiped.”

Cullen snorted. “I would have been offended by that a month ago, but now? You may have a point.”

\-----

Several days after Anders’ arrival, Amund the Skywatcher walked into Josephine’s office and quietly demanded an audience with the Inquisition Council. Seeing his expression, Josephine immediately gathered Cassandra, Leliana, and Cullen to the war room to meet with him.

The towering Avvar warrior looked at their expectant faces and spoke a single, shattering sentence: “Bring the Inquisitor’s body to the Augur of Stone-Bear Hold as soon as possible.”

Leliana held up a hand before the others could speak. “Her _body_ , you say? Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Lowlander? Her spirit is with Sun-Hair’s shaman. She wants her body back. You _do_ have it, don’t you? So bring it to the hold, and let them be reunited.” He didn’t wait for their approval, but walked out of the war room, muttering to himself about ridiculous lowlanders and their ridiculous ideas.

Not an hour later, Leliana had cleared a path from the Inquisitor’s suite to a covered wagon. The Iron Bull carried her body, with Solas in close attendance. Cullen and Cassandra met them at the wagon where the rest of Ember’s team were waiting.

As Cassandra loaded the packs on the horses, Cullen pulled Solas aside, worrying at his lower lip before speaking. “Take care of her.”

Solas smiled slightly, nodding. “Of course we will. That is why we accompany her.”

Cullen shook his head, imploring with his eyes what he couldn’t say in front of the others. “ _You_ need to take care of her.”

“Ah.” Solas looked down, and then back up, to hold Cullen’s gaze with a penetrating, if sympathetic, stare, and sighed. “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for, Commander. It is not your lack of faith in the Maker, but your lack of faith in _yourself_ that undermines you. You must either step down, or step up. You cannot remain as you have been.”

Cullen looked down, closing his eyes against the rush of shame. His shoulders sagged for a moment before he recalled their audience. With an effort, he straightened his back and looked up, nodding. “I understand.”

Solas’ smile was tired and wry. “No, I don’t believe you do. But you _can_ , and that’s what matters.” He placed a hand on Cullen’s arm. “You still have a long way to go, Commander.” He turned to the wagon. “As do we.”

Cullen nodded, and backed away, letting Solas climb in. He walked to the front, where Cassandra was mounting her horse, and nodded to her sharply as she urged her horse into a trot, leading the others across the bridge.

“Come back to us, Inquisitor… Ember,” he murmured. “Maker… whoever is listening, please, bring her back.”

\-----

_The story continues with[Chapter 36 of the Canticle of Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19090438/chapters/57565957)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really glad to be done with this section of story. This whole Cullen PoV thing is HARD!
> 
> \--Ember--


End file.
